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all the images i have left of you don't even make a whole handful

breaks before another evening wear
sees no street, no outdoors, no rain on a friday
night falls apart like so many times before

i finally realize there's no glitter
no sequins, no formal attire for tonight's act
which is a monologue, an interior discourse
no one will so much as register once
let alone multiple times

there's nobody but me left alone
when leaving's the thing to do now
between words, between repetitions
of all the things you only dared to say
after i was gone at last: "i don't wanna
end up like you!" with tears like shattered glass
for emphasis, for all the times that it felt real


every single day
that goes by with minimum effort
and maximum results, like scratching
your name on my skin like a tag
turned inside out for all to see that

it is just me and the weight of winters
passing over what we could become
if only today, of all days, we settle
for a true story of how we traded keys
shelter from bedbugs, from the lying
down to the very last phone conversation
going straight to voicemail

you decided to leave a message, a song
the one i sang for you again and again
the words scattered quickly, like a treeful
of ghost birds flying off into the pixelated
skies all at once at the slamming of a door
the opening of eyes, the stark realization that
there's a strong sense of salt exploding
with every wave breaking and quenching
the thirst of youth, the shocking truth of our
different numbers, the years that went by
from my birth to your summer birthday

i don't think i told you i lost all the photos
of the past two years -- our years, your bed
-- they are all gone, like memories from
a very long time ago, when there were no real
ways to recall the gender of the twins that
would never be but that i still tried to become
with you, through all the yesterdays worth
keeping for future reference, when the day comes
and all my stories are finally finished, done
save for the ones we could've told
opted not to
for fear is my artform

it wouldn't hurt if it was just the photos
if it had just been you, and not everyone else

all the relatives, sisters, neighbors, classmates
suburbanites, visitors, passersby, onlookers
colleagues, coworkers, fellow scribblers
storytellers, weavers, and dreamers
characters from la banda, la raza
el corillo, the crew, the gang, and the entire cast
including the chance encounters
the not-so-coincidental-acquaintances
friends, yes, friends, extended family
bystanders and witnesses called forth

in spite of me
or because of something i said
i did, i wrote, i yelled
or screamed
to forget

you will lie
with him
and i will
once again
to stay in

i want to make the most out of the three weeks left in my lease


improvisación en torno a la pluralidad del apoyo involuntario

Quisimos voltear el mundo;
que quede claro no lo queremos cambiar
nos encanta tal cual
El tema es uno de perspectiva
cosas de gradaciones, contrastes
compulsiones, matices de la percepción
Los síntomas del silencio nunca
se manifiestan de inmediato --
en cambio, la vergüenza no da tregua
es absoluta y despiadada --
sin cuartel ni respiro
Con el tiempo ya ni los colores
son los mismos. Los vínculos
filiales fomentaron, si no todas,
el monto de las transgresiones
que quedaron en evidencia

Sabemos a ciencia cierta
que sobrevivir es la peor condena

No son pocas las veces que fantaseamos
sucumbimos a la exquisita ilusión
de burlarlo todo, sin pausa ni reposo
con tal de arribar más allá de la supervivencia

Repito no queremos cambiar
el mundo sólo voltearlo nomás
Con partirlo en trocitos suculentos
nos basta y nos sobra, sospechamos
sí, anticipamos por fin una tábula rasa
mucho más productiva que la esperanza