Adieu +

(Final Act)

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Goodbye pleasant view of my mother baking bread and my father's strong dark hands around her waist. Goodbye Erica...my better half...you have always been the wind and I...the seed in your loving arms.
Good bye nesting bells in the pine like towers and to the echoes of your voices.
Goodbye to winter with the scent of snow to come...goodbye crystal needles from a former drip and to the warm glow by the fireplace...goodbye cashmere gloves that once belonged to grandma and to the secret messages to my sister, written with vapor and fingers at the glassy surface of her window.
Goodbye to spring that brings my birthday each time and a symphony of aquarelles...green emerald, velvety carmine and mustard yellow of buttons in bloom, romance, fresh water creeks and feathery trees all in perfect harmony under a vigilant wand of an invisible director that loves to rhyme.
And the gold! And silver! And copper! Of the autumn leaves and their cracking whispers under my feet on the pavements and gardens of my beloved street.
Goodbye hot sand between my toes, and the castle and canal that I make by the blue sapphire beach and to my white clothes that would never again feel, over my summer sun kissed skin.
Goodbye friends at the corner Café, goodbye cigarettes and espressos and that smokey caramel nirvana that the mix produces in our mouths…Goodbye Charles Baudelaire and the infinite discussions among us over “Les fleur du mal”, we were immersed and oblivious to the world outside and without a fight we surrender under a snobby cloud, that only a French writer and the Buenos Aires sky can handle at the same time.
World, you have been good to me and because you choose to create me as a human being I was able to listen, caress, observe, inhale and taste your amazing force in my whole self.
My final act will be a silky kiss dedicated to all you are...Goodbye Ravishing world...Goodbye.

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Adieu +


(Final Act)-Reading-

You in the Circus, Me behind Bars.

(Letter from a Tiger to His Brother)

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Forgive me, my brother, for telling you that I haven’t had the desire to write to you. The truth is I’ve been feeling lethargic and sad. I don’t know if it is the confinement; I don’t know if it is the food or the time that I have been in this kind of life.
The reality is that the zoo depresses me; and evil is not redeemed by apparent love. If not for those children who bring me their joy, my life would be much bitterer, still. I hope you are doing better my brother... I hope.. traveling the entire world, but as you tell me: the tiger tamer, forces you to work more than is accounted for.
You have to understand, my brother that some humans have in their soul a little villain in it, that when unable to overpower whomever they wish, they strike their frustration among the beasts. Many of them feel important and find bravery only with a chair in one hand and a whip in the other.
But back to me, let me tell you, nothing has changed here since we were separated. However, something has happened among these people. I notice that their gaze is lost in the infinite, and smells empty. It seems like their eyes look different tortured, lonely and trapped without a trace of a spark as if they were themselves the captive ones. I bet you those outsiders don’t understand how to freely run.
We fell into some jungle, my brother, and look in what kind of pious hands! Their air is vicious, stale with smoke and death. And who can anticipate our luck?
Being back to nature would be their greatest achievements and as well our dream; able to act at will; not hampered; not under compulsion or restraint and without a zoo of people. Take care my brother, I do not know when, but that day is coming.

Changed Boxes.

(The Dream in the Mirror)

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Something is faulty, within this box,
All is changing, and I don’t know what is happening.
I want to sew; I want to use make up,
I want to be a mother, and a man to love,
To dress like a woman and high heels to wear,
To feel normal and be able of have dreams.
But when I stop, in front of a mirror,
I touch my beard, I watch my reflection,
But when I watch and I watch my reflection I see that I am a man and I feel perplexed.
Traps, traps, trap of the life. In the mirror she is lost, in reality I feel lost… we are both lost.

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Changed Boxes


(The Dream in the Mirror) -Reading-

Reality

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Pure, virgin
Vanishing, leaving, disappearing
Forever alone
Death

To quiet a voice

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Terror explodes in rubber bullets
Wrapped in black smoke,
He was a coward.

1995

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Activism complains on the streets of Cordoba,
Dressed in red and banging the lids of pans.
She is asking for freedom.

Tu

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You are the birth place
And the death bed
You are the sweet peas
And the hand that picks them
You are Kafka’s Metamorphosis
And the apple in his side

However, you are not the tears in those eyes
Or the dress on the bed
Or the lonely star in the Vietnamese flag
And certainly you are not the teeth on the carcass

It is possible that you are the sun under the sea
Maybe even the fox at the little prince meadow
But you are not even close
To being the cold New York winter snow

It might interest you to know
Speaking in the plentiful truth
That I am the girl from the
Moulin Rouge

I also happen to be the vampire pumping life not to die
The morning paper news at the door
And the craziness behind the ear of Van Gogh
I am the mud by the river
And silence in the soul
But don’t worry I am not the
Birth place and the dead bed
You always be Kafka’s Metamorphosis
And the apple in his side
You will always be the sweet peas,
Not to mention and some how
The hand that picks them