Diversions
While surveying my garden at the back of the house, I heard two boys talking on the other side of the fence. In his sweet innocent voice, one boy said: What does man taste like? And then there was snickering and slapping each other on the skin. I shook my head and went inside my house, not interested in hearing more. But then I remember the story of this Russian family who were discovered by scientists in an isolated forest in Siberia, forty years after they hid themselves during the second world war. Cut off from civilization, they did what these two boys were probably doing: the family entertained themselves by recalling their dreams from last night.
Materially poor boys and secret dark fantasies. I hope they grow up soon.
Infinite
The kindness of man
who dare not reveal.
Hunger pressing,
bottom of the wheel.
Falling on earth
because you can.
The crimes and passions
of the untreated madman.
Prayers for the ill,
unwanted and poor.
Afflictions of men
waiting for cure.
Your faults according
to your critical mother.
Gestures of love
from the right lover.
Gun-carrying malcontents.
Full of intentions,
the presidents.
Empathic visions undeveloped.
Love set free,
death we fear of.
The Drink
He loves my mind!
With joy, I went out, seeking everyone and no one in particular. “Mrs. Gonzales, how are you? Is the mister doing fine? He had a stroke? I’m so sorry.” Is that why her hair turned white in just a year? I hugged her before I left. Walking further, that’s when I noticed it. The promenade. It was surprisingly clean and devoid of everyday trash today. Then I made a small laughing sound, the kind where you suddenly expel a breath from the nose. In reality, the promenade was just a plain concrete sidewalk lined with mango and palm trees and other wild plants appearing in no particular order or organization. And in my side of the world, it was also a storage space for people’s garbage and the occasional home of a stray cat or dog. There’s nothing promenade-y about it. But ever since they started building the mall opposite of it, I have started using that long abandoned walk, thinking that it too, is part of the future shopping center as a promenade of sorts. I was even wearing perfume and neatly dressed especially today.
Feeling satisfied, I increased my speed and turned right to cross the road going to the pharmacy. If I wish to return home the same way I came and without a headache, I need to buy water.
But isn’t this funny?
When I realized that he loves my mind, it felt like drinking water on a hot summer day. No more wandering in the desert, I thought. But here I am. Looking for something I just metaphorically drank. Like I needed a physical event to repeat and feel what my soul already experienced.
What a mystery. No, he’s the mystery.
Liquid roses
Roses are red,
violets are blue.
The drops of blood on the sidewalk,
they remember you.
After a whiff, my smooth, quiet feet,
they arrived at your door.
The lights are out.
Your swimming heart I already adore.
In a flash I entered,
erect and aroused.
Your white, rosy globes
and your sweet swan neck,
they call their dark spouse.
Ever careful,
I knelt before your sleeping form.
My ancient teeth, they moved to devour
the lady who will be no more.