-- for Idelfonso Ramos on the
anniversary of his death
Here we are
My brother
It’s time it’s that time again
For the gran frijolada
The yearly mess of beans
I cook up Cuban-style
In your honor
The beans are soaking
My secret ingredient is ready
Here we are
You are on the other side
Resolviendo
Getting done whatever it is
That gets done
On the lush island that is death
On the isle of memory and grateful forgetting
Always 90 miles
Always an inch away
There you are
Still making the documentary of your life
And me
The gringo whose life you saved
With a couch and an abrazo
I’ve still got one foot
Planted and dancing in the dirt of time
The other
Where else?
In my mouth
That won’t stop singing
Here we are
A celebration that must always be improvised
Motivito to
welcome some minute arrived from afar
From thin air you pull
An armful of icy beers
Like rabbits from a magician’s hat
Son de la Loma
Blasting from the cassette player
Heard all down the street
The neighbors dancing too
Heard by lovers
As far off
As the malecón
I can hear it again now
Trio Matamoros
Who wouldn’t dance in your presence?
Your shadow dancing
With a permanent
Smile and hard-on
Stars and cancer everywhere
Here we are
Here we are
Idel
Dumbstruck and far flung
Shipwrecked and rescued
Sheer luck everywhere
Full of beans and magic
--
New York, 31 December 2013
1 comment:
Thinking about this one and that "fragment," cooking and death. Surely everything not a matter of life and death, but although mi suegra Ecuatoriana hooked me on lentils, I still prefer Cuban style. And that began in the era when we met, with the Comidas Chinas y Criollas joints along Broadway, from Columbia-land to Washington Heights.
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