Sunday, September 14, 2008

Una Poema Vegetariana

I was with him, the one, and a group of people at an outside bar. I hadn't had alcohol in a while but had one cosmopolitan. We were on our way to see Ted Kennedy speak. I wasn't sure I wanted to go because I knew it would be crowded and I would have to use the bathroom and it would be a hassle and that one drink had really hit me hard. But Caroline M. was going with us too so I put my shoes on with some effort and followed them up the hill. The next thing I know I woke up in bed with him and he said "you don't remember what happened do you?" I insisted only having one drink and no, I didn't remember what happened. But I asked if Caroline was the girl who had given him the infection. He wouldn't answer. I said "You have always lied to me." And I left. I was leaving forever. Because nothing is worse than a person who pretends to be honest by telling half of the truth.

I left and walked to a beach but my legs gave out, as always, and I could not get up. An old Mexican man came to try to help me but he was too old and his legs could not hold him up either. Finally, we managed to get up and walked along a dirty shore, in dirty water back to the street I had come from. The old man turned into a sweet young girl who had on a dirty dress so I offered to buy her a new one, speaking my broken Spanish with her. We were in a boutique, rather too expensive for me, but I didn't care since she had been so kind to me. Another Latino young man came up and asked if I would listen to a vegetarian poem he had written. I was hesitant and trying to find appropriate "ropa" for la chica, but relented. Every time he'd start, I'd have to interrupt to help the little girl with the dresses. Finally I was back on the shore repeating the poem he had recited for me. I cannot remember it now. It had something to do with spending years wandering and waiting and looking for something. Something that was never there. Something I had to cease looking for. I was alone on a polluted shore under a beautiful gasoline streaked sky.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

For T

we all learned something.

and dreams were dreamt and things were heard in our sleep

and when we awoke, it was all forgotten and new.

and we started again -

blind.

and wanting more.