Snapshots of City Memory

I am a queen of nostalgia, dark like cold nights, awake and asleep, all at the same time, like memories you can taste again and again, life begins to live, moments begin to happen, my eyes open like wind on adobe building desert midnight, stay with me, in my blood, protecting by the membrane of my veins and my esperanza, holding you forever and ever, on our new soft terrain, I was accustomed to a usual dissatisfaction so it’s difficult to know how to handle you, your teeth glistening like snow under streetlamp night, New York but latin, cobblestone dust washed into relentless tango rain, streaming at the curbs like garbage rivers racing to escape but drying before reaching the city’s edge, whirlwind life, remembered in fragments of his coffee eyes, dorado ears, corner of devilish smile,  arch of stretched back, existence now tasted in snapshots of flavor like memory dejavu reenacted in my present bones,

love, love, pushing me over the city’s shore like toes on balcony tile cold as cement at daybreak heartless as selfish desire and foolish impulsion my soul eternally filled to the brim with carelessness because nothing matters to me but love, and sadness has filled most of my days like darkness fills shadows, which wait to be painted black, as that is their purpose,

I was created melancholy and wistful like willow tree, solitary and yearning

but roots are city glass and stone mud streets and cumbia windows, plátano crates, long strides into freezing bridge night;

don’t let me go, gray sweater and flourescent bus dream, love known in flashes like polaroid unregrettable futureless time–

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