Literary Well/Pozo Literario: Camincha

LEFTOVERS

I eat leftovers
like leftovers
love leftovers
It's like I recreate the
romantic moments
in my kitchen
with my leftovers.

I can add to the moments.
I can take away.
I can give the right answers
for a change.
Feel your hand on mine again.
The desire in your eyes.
It's like I can see myself
dressed in my girlfriend's dress
that I wish I had but she
wore last night.

It's like I can feel expensive
eating the leftovers
that you paid with
the Visa card that
I couldn't afford.

It's like I can feel all tingly
and have my sinuses drained
with yesterday's hot sauce
from Rosarita's
or white mustard from
the Jade Palace.
It's like the moments live on and on
with my leftovers.

But sometimes I forget
that I have leftovers
and it's like my leftovers
get left over and over and over
and then one day...

It's like I find them and say: oh, my ...
if I eat this and die of it
I'll want to kill myself.

TR I LOGY

LADY IN #13

She drinks in youthful faces
Longing for yesteryears
and sometimes she
cries without knowing, why?

LADY IN #9

I think I will. I think I will. I think I will.
She chanted merrily to herself,
her little white gloves
looking rather grey,
but, who cares?

I think I will. I think I will. I think I will.
She chanted going down the stairs,
Clutching her purse, too tightly,
but, who cares?

I think I will. I think I will. I think I will
I'll have me some popcorn
And I'll pretend
in silver screen,
in the love scenes
that's him and me,
but, who cares?

LADY IN #0

She longed for company,
for human touch,
for words, for looks,
for lies, for truths,
but sat across, away from,
not next to, humans
when the long, dreaded
longing ached her.

Top/Arriba