January 27, 2011

Hey there Lucid Twilight Eyes,
let’s breakfast hours before dawn,
lunch at nine while the world commutes,
dine at three (the tea time of horseless shepards),
then call this abundance of meat and alcohol
in our leisure hours, the simple life—

With careful tweaking
we’ll learn to recognize
the dog pitch as danger or play barks,
then relax the wooden gate closed
with our trust in the seasons.
So many curves to arrive here
just one to realize the city
knows nothing of your secrets—

I want to put these words
to sertaneja and mix up
my languages while you mistake me
for someone who will stay—
I’m beginning to understand
I’ll never again meet anyone like you.
I’ve learned this lesson well.

If this is love I won’t tell you
or translate the distracting mischief
into eye glee because there’s work to do.
The cows won’t fatten themselves;
the evening sun enlivens your stillness;
I’m neon New York Broadway playing
in fields of humility laughter.

LOCATION: Countryside outside São Gonçalo, Brazil – At a traditional family ranch.

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