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…

Ten Minutes

8:09 p.m.  Te alcanzo dentro de paredes lineas de metal ondas de

20:10        Steel, the ocean is an iron fence most nights. Freezing Celcius water on my feverish Farenheart,

8:11 p.m. Nado como un ritmo y te anhelo como rima poética aunque

20:12     You’re in distant cafés or smoking on a Santiago porch in dead night with somber wings painted on your back,

8:13 p.m. Pero decís que no sos un ángel. Sos un espíritu que comparte mis deseos

20:14      Rebel off-the-grid fleeting aquarius love of my life, filled with patience

8:15 p.m. para mí, y asco para la ciudad que te rodea, sabemos que el destino queda en el París latinoamericano,

20:16    You, interlaced with destiny and destination, interlaced with the journey of

8:17 p.m. conocer todo lo que nos espera y llama, la ausencia ya no me duele

20:18      the nostalgia

8:19 p.m.  me quiere, pero también dejamos en el pasado las pieles cambiadas

Grown

this poem jumps around a lot and is rather incoherent, I realized. but that in itself reflects my current state of mind

we played football in muddy fields at dusk

like kings of Suburban wilderness

and dinner plates.

under cement tunnels through urban rivers,

we ran in moonlight

and drank cartons of milk

on warm neighborhood nights,

living immortally.

now we pretend to still be that age,

talking trash in diners, staying up late

all night they still play video games,

walking to the movies at 1 a.m.

and finding plastic roses in the street.

We stood outside of his parents’ house

all our hearts grew a bit older

when he told us he’ll be married

and a father by June;

we won’t be running around

on open fields anymore.

and all my other friends have gone,

no more Denny’s 2 a.m.

or living with our mothers,

we now shed the light of dawn

and live in bright high noon,

fate’s rays beating down on our skin.

The people of our pasts

and the music never lasts,

we float in and out of reality.

some paths change in an instant,

some girls change you for forever,

some people end up in your arms

and some move on like distant stars…

Sol del Barrio / Barrio Sun

I did this assignment before but now I feel like delving deeper…

Toes over cobblestone,

tumbleweed, cracks in pavement

train station

blues.

echoes of a suitcase

rolling down a quiet road

one girl

miles away from home.

restless wind

stirs in the corners

of the barrio

as faces watch

from porches of cumbia

and sweat.

soccer and dust

creaking railway

dusk and waiting

for a bus full of silent lips.

fear sits like food

in every stomach

filling us up to the brim

with love for the seconds

we spend breathing quietly

in summer tranquility

near and far from where we’ve come,

chokingly saying nothing

and softly knowing everything

under Buenos Aires sun…