In the wee morning
You over here
And the perps
Over there
Are eating the same nutritious breakfast
It will be a killer
Of a day
But for now
The sun is behaving itself
Squatting just over the horizon
With last night's sex on its mind
You are prepared
You are up
For any damn thing the day has to offer
But what about the perps?
The perps
Who are superconductors
At any temperature
Say nothing
About their plans
For the day
Except that you
My friend
My bell and scar
You figure
Prominently
In them
-- Montevideo, October 5, 2010
Lunch with Penelope
Penelope Cruz
Wins the raffle
To have lunch with me
I bring my tuba
To the restaurant
Penelope arrives late
Wearing
Everything
I’ve been hiding behind this cross
Since the 16th century
I’m a converso
She confesses
You alone know this
She says
And starts reading the menu
But she has forgotten something:
The nautilus shell in which she was born
Before we can order
Pedro Almodovar arrives
Smelling of night-blooming jasmine
Speaking ladino
He says:
This is not a kosher restaurant
Penelope blows a few sad notes on my tuba
And reluctantly departs
What’s up with Penelope?
She did not tear up her birth certificate
She did not tell me my name
She did not beg me for an autograph
I eat my lunch alone
Fatter and hungrier by the hour
-- New York, October 8, 2010
Poem for Dan at 30
Whatever was stalking you
Howling with hunger
At your back
You picked it up by the scruff of its neck
And put it down
Snarling
In front of you
You sang to it
You put it to work
You made it laugh
You buried your fingers in its fur
You walked it in sunlight
You named and tamed it
At 30
Everything is in front of you
Ready for your hands
-- New York, October 4, 2010
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