she had never heard of you Neruda
i said do you know pablo neruda
does he come here she said
sucking on a cigarette
one of those thin women cigarettes that some kentucky tobacco farmer or whoever the hell makes cigarettes designed with the ingenious intent to make women cigs skinny so that women might connect that thinness to themselves
no i said
i think he’ll never come here (you’re dead pablo – what the fuck was i supposed to say)
did you know i said
you have the body of a woman (stealing some of your lines pablo – i had to steal some of your lines)
no shit she said
i am a woman
ahh – you are so lucky i said
with those red sand thighs
miraculous walls in the desert
casting shadows on a flower so pink
a thirsting flower
a flower ready to surrender
you remind me of a desert
and of a flower waiting in surrender
a thirsting flower
ready to surrender
you, my desert in repose
a desert with a thirsting flower
then she invited me pablo (all because of you pablo – your lines i stole and those i
bastardized)
invited me
hoping for
expecting
a rain of softness
a breeze of caresses
and i
instead
with my coarse alcoholic self
said i dig you
really dig you
and dug into her
between the red sand of her thighs
with no regard for the sanctity of her calm (with no regard for the sanctity of you pablo)
not noticing
maybe not caring
her becoming so still
opening her spirit
her heart
a desert with one flower
so that the both of us could feel.
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