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.

To learn more about my work and see my lastest book ("In Memory of Gods and Heroes") click the link -