269poem

July 31, 2011

What is true and good right now
is the way night curves into my bed
as the sun rounds third base to China.
The light splintering sleeping lakes
and stilted-homes bares the first yawn of day
while we, cupped under the weight of the world,
rise mid-afternoon from our revolution of love
to push reluctant kisses through Antarctic air
on Estado de Israel where a Sanskrit song
and ravioli at La Continental are worldly
in unnatural ways, as if translations on cartons
gave milk multiple meanings, as if our stab at cold
in this slumberland city wasn’t meaning enough.

LOCATION: Buenos Aires, Argentina – While walking to find food on election day Valeria sang a song in Sanskrit; Estado de Israel is a street and La Continental is the restaurant where we ate.

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