CarlosManríquez

  Man on a couch By Carlos Manríquez There he is, stretched out loosely on that green couch like a washed up jelly fish on a mossy rock. I cannot see his TV from my apartment.   But the intermittent glare on his face leads me to believe he might be watching a modern music video or a fast-paced show. I guess he has varied tastes. For sometimes I have noticed an intent almost sad look on his face and other times I have seen him burst out into inaudible laughter.   He does not entertain much. On occasion I have seen a woman cuddled up against him –although it’s not clear wether I have seen the same woman- and twice –once every year since he moved in-   a bunch of people have gathered in his apartment. I have seen them standing about the room, clinking glasses, chatting and laughing. He cannot be much of a walker either. In these two years, we have never passed each other on the street. If and   when that happens, there will be no alternative   than to say hello   for I am pretty s