Pedir peras del (calle de) olmo

Empezamos y terminamos en la misma calle
Asi es la vida que triunfa y se cae
La que pasó entremedio se acabó
Contenido y crecido del tiempo
Más que la acera entre los momentos
Voy pensando en tu cuerpo, en tu alma, en tu voz
Mirando como las sombras bailan en el balcón
Buscando, pidiendo cualquier perdón
Que cerca los dos puntos, pero ay que lejos

why should I give you
another opportunity to hurt me
I’m coming to
And too angry to be searching for clarity

I know peace of mind comes with peace with time
But all I can do is spin in circles
Make myself dizzy
Rob myself of serenity

I blame you

You trigger my attachment
Then leave me out to dry
There is no comprehension
There is no you and I
I destroy you in my mind
I’m such an easy scapegoat for your problems
And you are one for mine

a promise

What it meant to be to be wanted
What it still means

This is an old wound
This is an old old deep deep wound

You were beautiful
And you wanted me
And you let everyone see it

On the train
In the hallway
In your apartment
On the bus
On the sidewalk
In the pizzeria

And I was so grateful
I gave a piece of myself to you

Forever

And you took it with you
To the grave

I hope you did

Didn’t you?

fighting (with gratitude to the journey by Mary Oliver)

we pass it back and forth 

like a hot potato

and it burns oh how it burns

a pair of hypocrites

causing each other pain

you yell, I ignore

you ignore, I yell (in my mind, not at you. I am an adult).

I wish it were different

the anxiety of setting a boundary

is harsher than whiplash

slaps you in the face

forget it forget it forget it

like me like me like me

choose me choose me choose me

but if I betray myself

despite all the pressure you put on me

the only person I have to blame

the person who most suffers

is me

and it is only my life

that I can save.

Incomprehensible

Her lyrics feel like a prayer
Holy and cleansing
Despite saying underwear
Life is like that real
Tangible and not fair
Rough around the edges
Notches in the chair

Pull open the drawer
And find it overflowing
There will never be
Too much knowing
Always something else
That you could be doing
Writing songs as I wait
For the tea thats brewing

Drink it in my bed
Thinking of my mama
Feeling kind of down
Sending texts out to Ananya

I listen to her song
And I feel it wash me bare
Give me a moment of peace
As it holds me there

And I’m grateful for the music
I’m grateful for the song
For a moment I feel the gratitude
Of this world to which I belong

Sunday (Domingo)

The little black girl
Sitting at the table of men
Skins dark and glistening
Drinking beers 
In the Lavapiés evening

And I love her
The softness she brings
Almost like a secret
Her toy unapologetically
On the table
Amidst the bottles

It makes me think
How all I ever wanted
Was to be your daughter

How much pride
It gave me
For you to be proud
Of me.

small kindness

buoy me more

than I can ever know.

Madrid in summer

The men work
And the women clean
Sweep the sidewalks
Tip the empty beer cans
in the far too tiny wastebasket.
The man walks by with a Mahou in his hand,
Construction, odd jobs,
Smoking, drinking, watching women
Que guapa under his breath.
Celestino points to your bread
and makes a motion
to show it will engorge you.
It gives you a lot of pleasure
The workmen with gloves
holding huge rolls of bubble wrap
Spinning across the sidewalk in curves
like Dancers in the snow.