You over here...the perps over there

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
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

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
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