Friday, March 31, 2006

hair gel

first the eyes were shot
palms up against them strong
those holes in the crane
that hold them

other own bones known
are cross, on top
to count this horrible night

opened raised
rightist light through
thick wet straws of my own hair

many months i forgot
to notice it or wear it down or to cut it
now i touch it and strands
go all the way down to the shoulders
thick and messy
didn’t see it this long growing

blurry then vision of
green little pearls shinny and
fuzzy from the pressure hold-ed
patterns on white soft of
aunt’s embroidered hand towel

it is the bathroom
i discover
my customary sacrifice-stone holder

the woman at the radiology test
smelled like a fresh shower
months ago in that morning

i remember the test
and her
ago as i wonder
if every morning
a man smells her hair
or if he touches it softly
it is fresh and silky
and smells well
as i re-call her

i wonder if her skin
is touched with love
at late nights
or kissed good-bye
in cloudy mornings

or if like mine
is cleaned and perfumed and soft
yet lonely
grows older

the holes the marks
on my eyes
grow deeper
of the holes

tonight this painful bathroom
smells as her hair
it was familiar
since i entered
and before the pain
i smiled
since i noticed

friday night lonely sandwich

el día de antes no es el día de hoy
las palabras huecas sin eco siempre son
palabras por las ideas o por el sonido
¿el mensaje o puramente canción?

si las lees rápido, necias son
si quieres entenderlas
no es con la cabeza
es con el corazón

aquí la diferencia
entre buena literature
y un mal poema
como este
sin razon…
sin un buen sazon

i am hungry i want a sandwich

a white van

sometimes you live in a city that you weren’t born into
sometimes you feel completely grounded to a place
(a city or a house or even a little space)
and you feel is completely where you belong

that was me many years ago in divinely crazy mexico city
i swore i would never move out of its traffic
its pollution and over 500 years of historical bonds

i was a fish in the water in the wild subway metro
and drove all around the city fast
and knew every corner by heart

yet one day i left
and regardless of chance, coincidences
and plenty of metaphors
i ended up living in san diego

i wasn’t meant/supposed to be here
i was on my way to san francisco when i first stopped
i was never too attracted to the southern californian vibe
i remember the friend kurt aka nowork comment to me
at a sandiegan well-known record store
bere, i don’t picture you here in san diego
a beach town
i thought of you more in boston
or some big city with history like that

fortuna chances and some twisted faiths
i am here in san diego
and after 5 years it finally starts feeling like home

and again i remember what my friend helmut
an over 70 year-old german man living in
minneapolis for the past 60 years told me
when i just arrived here fresh from mexico city:
san diego, bere, is somehow looking after you
since i found immediately a little studio
a creative-director job
and got a little car that today i finally own

i was still on my way to somewhere else
i have been on my way to somewhere else all these 5 years
i was settled but not convinced or aware of
what’s really going on
as usually happens with me
with many situations in my little life
a slow learner have always been/will be

today i woke up and strangely and even if sad but san diego felt home
not because i have embraced the southern california style of a life
or because i am too lazy and even if overprized is easy living here

actually i think i realized it was home for the very first time
when just a couple of weeks ago
while crossing very distracted a street by my house
in lovely neighborhood of normal heights
i was almost run over by a white van

ironically enough the white van had printed a logo
paradise valley hospital
national city california
that place! that hospital!
it is were i was actually born!!

no matter how attached i am and will always be to
mexico city its landscapes its turbulences
its art
i was born in national city san diego county
and fortuna brought me back
so fortunately enough an intriguing reminder
with a fast van came at
you were born in this city
is that a cause enough?
if not, remember you life can be taken
in case of not enough joy and if don't appreciate it at all

it was frightening not ‘cause i am actually
afraid of death since i am not
i am just afraid of leaving without having
told people how important they are
and how special life is
and how fragile

today happily except for a couple of replies
that i owe
like to beto, and ina, and tanya
i have the rest told about their art
and importance and all

in case a white van from national city
comes to haunt me down again
and i also i told my mom how much i love her
and to remind of that to my dad too
since even if apart they can contact each other better than i do
i even left some stuff here bloging wrote down!

how convenient all this is

i have not intentions to die
but peace comes to my heart
so from here to eternity i owe to nobody nothing
not even a dime!
(well of course not counting the credit cards or stuff like that)

and freedom flushes through my veins
and i realized that paradoxically and
without a single draft or a careful plan:

i am living again in the city that i was born in
i came back 30 years later or so…
i hope that is enough of a good reason
or for me
a reasonable cause

we shall see we shall know