Drifting Thoughts

One slim glass of coca-cola iceless on wood mueble by my pillow where I rest my skin in motionless tranquility so as not to sweat in summer afternoon

adobe tile room,

150 pesos rusty golden coins, a receipt for tomatos, and old Motorola accompany the dewy glass as I sit

and occasionally miss my city as she drifts through my head like breath or waves,

and sometimes her memory even pounds against my bones like veins of blood trembling with heartbeat,

she will always be fuera de la realidad, for her hospitality is rough like pavement and her heart a jungle of chaos;

but her Dream is like roses, an oasis to my soul’s reality.

her promise has fed me, no matter if I fulfill, for the wind has always pushed me where I need to be…

Silueta

Vivo como una sombra.

no verás mis ojos

no me sentirás

soy liquido como un color

sin palabras como la respiración

sólo ves una silueta

bajo luz como si fuéramos

ángeles lejanos

lejos de nuestras viejas ciudades,

usadas para absorber

nuestras lagrimas

que no encuentran donde caer

que desean el caos

de la cambia constante

que es la vida de una fantasma.

Me verás como silueta lamentable:

callada como la briza

que te toca como terciopelo azul

pero nunca te dice

una palabra que entiendes.

Esperarás que comparta contigo

un pedazo de mi alma

una sola palabra

del centro de mi ser

pero lamento que no puedo.

Mi piel es de piedra.

bajo el superficie de risa elegante

voz baja y manos inmóviles,

mi alma ardiente te desea

y cree que me dejarás

al final,

porque yo te quiero

demasiado.

Deeper into the night

Home—an oasis

Unsure whether it’s where I started

or where I’m meant to end up;

if it’s warm during the winter,

or if it’s in my mother’s arms.

I am in the middle–

of the start and end,

my dreams and past,

his promises and her tears,

my two homes,

my doubts of each.

Soon I will be heading out,

for now I stay around this town

and hope and save and cry,

around the corner, the ride of my life.

as night grows deeper 

I begin to cry,

the sky darkens and I am more alone,

with the hum of the refridgerator

and nothing more.

Hollywood

we spin through the nights and streets

after hours Venice Beach. 

sabe que no podemos seguir asi,

fuera de control.

he has strong arms 

like my father, 

so I hold him close and ask him

to walk with me through the rogue 

beach night, 

drive me home beyond the

summer bar fights.

we live in a jungle

of dim red lights and

whisky on the job.

we sell our smiles to get tips,

a Hollywood family;

shining with gold and tears.

he’s handing me a stack of bills

because he can, he calls himself

God and El Rey of Venice Beach.

he’s fire now;

one day he’ll be ashes.

their eyes are red but 

I’m the one crying

and I know I am far away from home

as wordless tangos deafen

my doubts and the screams of my soul.

Los Angeles cries and her eyes shine

like skyscrapers and starlit dreams.

snow from far away falls upon her empty Hills, 

but we stay warm and dry, and

at daybreak we’re left with dust

and masks to wear til sunset.

Soy la princesa, 

alone in the bar,  

maybe I’m rich now because I live off nothing–

and kisses and loopholes and vino rojo,

but I’ll be leaving soon.

maybe I’m drunk because I have nothing,

and now I’m full of everything.