Friday, March 27, 2009

Lust Swindle

Odilia Rivera Santos

i could taste the honey from your mouth

the day after

and feel the hand under my sweater
down to the nerve

to the meridian if you will  
on that night

on the street when they had phone booths in new york

it had begun sensibly with dinner and 

you were the show because you couldn't afford one with other actors

you told the same dull story many times, many versions like a photographer taking shots 

of  the same tombstone from different angles

the slab was the same with letters unchanged except that at times it made a story and at other

 times, just letters devoid of meaning and nostalgia

it was my fascination with mistakes and discomfort that drew me to you

the game, the three-card monty.

you wanted to believe it was you who had snuck in through the window - a petty thief with grandiose dreams
but i saw you coming
you struggled with the latch 
and dropped your jimmy tool 
and i saw
but didn't have the heart to let you know
that you couldn't break my heart
but the phone booth and you in it and your hands

oh, my

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