half the world
--for oscar varona
there are bars in spain
that i think i need to go to, oscar,
places where you’ve promised me
tapas
and more booze than i could ever imagine.
and i can imagine a lot.
so okay let’s cut the bullshit.
we are friends and writers,
and we both realize the stigma
that goes along with that.
with being friends more than being
writers.
i guess it’s my turn to talk in hyperboles
tonight,
as i sit here in new york, drinking wine
dreaming madrid,
pissing pittsburgh and all the poets
that have tried to kill it
and everything else.
at least we are not boring anyone with
our conversation.
and who knows.
one day i might wind up at your door,
finally sick of america
and full of the hunger
for europe.
and what will you show me
other than dried mountains
and a place to get a good glass
of tempranillo?
hopefully a good time,
and a quiet time full of
the rich, comedic conversation
of two writers scorned in their pathetic homelands.
and if not that, than at least i hope
you can touch me with a kind hand
and a few soft words
and i’ll do the same
because, oscar, that is more than i could ever
hope to get from the drags who call themselves
writers and friends
in this god forsaken country.
10.25.07
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Reading again this awesome poem from a real awesome poet (not from those pseudo-poets that collapses the web, the world) makes me feel better and know that I have a friend, no matter where he's. Thanks for the poem, for listen me patiently yesterday and for your advices. You're the best, my friend. And I'm so proud to have you like a friend.
Post a Comment