Balloons

Carried by the weight of air
and bouncing with light and space,
our breaths are surrounded by rubber/plastic/chemical.

They tumble violently,
held by children celebrating (anything),
turned into animals by clowns, representing (anything).

Potential and kinetic energy
mix to create the perfect toy.
It defies gravity, and locks up glee inside its volume.

The colors mix like prisms
and we remember how to dance and shout,
looking at them in wonder at any age.

They are large and sound like dragons;
They are small and filled with water.
All of them announce FIESTA!

These bags of air and light and happiness
go with us from the crib to the grave
dancing in the breeze with bravery and silence.

2004: Spring

Do you remember
Grant Park in the Spring?
Me smoking cigarettes,
you taking pictures in between my legs.

I’d run around town
in my polka dot dress,
looking like a pseudo beatnik,
trying to catch your eyes.

We’d sit and laugh
at everyone else,
understanding each other’s humor
and discovering our own capacities.

I’d steal daffodils
from all the sidewalks,
bringing them to you and beaming
with affection and disaster.

You’d encourage my words,
bringing me to tears and
then lifting me up with
sardonic, pure, frenetic love.

We never made plans,
easing in and out of our friendship
with patience, suspense, and calm.
We knew then what we still know now.

That Spring was warmer than this one.
The days are no longer filled
with park photo-shoots
or long-winded cigarette-fueled love letters.

Still, the calmness sets in
at least once a day,
Our present tense mixes with nostalgia,
and the smell of daffodils still make us smile.

Verbs ending in ING

Actions that are Fun:

Smiling while sleeping.
Dancing while drinking.
Eating while cooking.
Singing while bathing.
Laughing while fighting.
Twisting while shouting.
Rocking while rolling.
Kissing while hugging.


Actions that are not Fun:

Crying while sleeping.
Coughing while swallowing.
Tripping while walking.
Studying while worrying.
Arguing while loving.
Sweating while working.
Regreting while thinking.
Forgetting while speaking.

Churros

Comámos churros
hechos en casa
fritos en aceite de oliva
(falta de otro tipo)
cubiertos en canela y azúcar
con masa exprimida
por una bolsa vieja
porque nos falta la manga.

Tienen el sabor
de la tentación y riqueza
que solamente se encuentra
en la amistad pura, redonda,
frita en aceite del sol
y cubierta de nostalgia y azúcar
que uno busca en sitios muy finos
sin encontrar remplazo.

Contractions

Sandwiched between heart and soul
lies memory and spite.
Remembering the pain of our pasts
does nothing to heal the nasty stitches.
You are beautiful but unwise; vague and tired.
Your exhaustion exhausts me,
your lack of interest discourages me,
and I begin to wonder what all my fussing was for.

Sounds and Furies

Pterodactyl sounds
wake me up,
always much earlier than I’d like.

Mighty Roars come
out of a small mouth
overcome with excitement for the day.

This Pterodactyl is gentle,
though easily excited and
agitated to play morning games.

My own grogginess passively
fights these
yelps, groans, cries and cheers.

The Pterodactyl ignores
my ignorance and shouts louder
to be heard and dealt with.

Other sounds begin to
emerge if one does not pay
attention to the Pterodactyl.

It leaves suddenly, tracing joy
as the less jubilant cry of
Eternal sadness sets in.

This sound is much
more desperate, sounding alarms
remarking hunger, boredom, temperature change.

I ask for the Pterodactyl
to return, finally appeasing the
Eternally Sad sounds.

I start to hear nothing at all;
Both the Sadness and the
Pterodactyl have had their fill.

Then, there is silence.
No sadness, no Pterodactyl,
only the shrill still silence of repose.

This sound, this silent void,
always comes once my own rest and angers
are void and empty.

I watch the silence take shape
and remain ever present,
waiting for the Pterodactyl again.