la vérité

options

i cant help but know and realize there is an easy way out.

i shouldn't torture myself by looking online and seeing

the thousands of jobs that are available back in new york,

that i could easily get with no worries about

legal papers and legit documentation

of who i am and where i belong.

i like my life here and i want to keep it that way

but 'shouldn't you be a little more realistic?' says my mother.

its just the december blues.

the end of a year and the start of a new one.

fire in your hand

you lie there on your stomach asleep

in the golden morning sun.

your hand is awkwardly extended

from underneath you, like a twisted

branch from a desert tree.

a large fly, black like tar,

circles your open hand in contemplation.

it is as big as a coin and the insect and I examine each other

like we had met in a previous life.

the fly twists its legs back and forth

as if he were making fire in your hand or praying.

but why would a fly pray and to whom would it pray?

if i were that fly, I would dance

in the soft cushion of your palm.

finally, you feel the sensation of him

parading in your hand like a proud king,

and you close your fingers to a tight fist and turn.

july 31, 2009

this is my jam

my morning jam with toast and a cafe con leche and maybe a cigarette

after if i'm feeling audacious

not so trivial

two months of this madness has left a permanent mark on my sanity and on my ability to remember the specific details of things that happened more than two days ago. it feels incredibly good, really. my veins feel like they are pumping fast with fresh blood and oxygen. i am experiencing an overwhelming sense of freedom and happiness throughout all aspects of my life. at times, i feel like my cigarettes accompany me through the night as if they were my only true friend but i know, that they are not. the music is loud and my heart vibrates with the beat like a revving engine. nights are dark and never long enough but full of infinite opportunities and impulsive reactions. and when the world stops spinning, you sit with your friends on dirty yellow cushions from lost couches on the cold tile floor, and the night sky starts to trade its deep blue for the ombre affect of the rising sun. the next choice must be made quickly: to lie your head softly against your waiting pillow or to go dance and embrace the new day coming?

if you could repeat one day from the last year, do you know which one it would be?

i do.

i lived for my first two months here in a small room without a view without a window but with very good company in a broken bed with a what i would call a strong 'gravitational pull' towards the middle. not much natural light or fresh air but plenty of good nights and even better mornings. its december and the sun is still shining and a coat is optional and i'm still waiting on the first winter rains that i experienced so frequently in paris, but i'll survive if i don't see them.

now, i have moved and am living in a very big apartment with low ceilings and a few friends that might be cockroaches but i have a closet big enough to hide in for the first time in maybe three years. it is cozy and there is fresh air and light from my balcony with antique wooden doors and i am not alone in my bed and there are pictures of all of you stuck to my wall in the most disorderly fashion.