summer

take a nap on a breezy afternoon

light incense with open windows to let the humid morning air in

walk at night with a bottle of wine unsure of the destination

roll windows down in the car and sing along

feel the dry skin on your thighs for the first time in months

dip into cool pool waters in your friend's parents house, while she prepares a snack

visit your grandparent's garden and sneak out by the pool with your cousins

watch the sun set at 8 PM

eat manchego on a rooftop

walk miles upon miles with your back sweating from the effort

a cold pint

you know

that

serotonin

there is nothing is this world so great

as the alchemy of the best day of your life

and what immediately follows.

what a disgrace it can't last forever–

it's only wise not to chase only this pleasure,

but savor it,

remember it.

one time maybe write about it,

with no words, no sounds.

only the flutter in the stomach or the way your feet bounced to the rhythm.

what keeps us alive

is caged in a deep set of neurons

that can remember back centuries of delight.

new york ii (blue is the color of my dreams)

there has always been this search for quietude

deep inside of me

a stillness, much opposed to the traffic of every day comings and wrongdoings;

so when i look into the empty eyes of a dancing figure

i know there was a man that put a soul in there

and i am just the observer of another

piece

of solitude.

and so i saw today. my dream was a dream another man had dreamed of, in 1925;

and i wonder, where will the color of my dreams lead me to,

when i get there i might find out it's too late.

an incessant light, a beacon,

a ray of hope, a glimpse;

art that trascends four thousand years

has kept us together for what will only last longer than any of us.

any craving soul will manage to scour the surface

of what it means to be remembered;

leave a mark that will reach someone else,

in their dreams, across a crowded hall;

oblivious.

new york i

souls will be mapped out

on paved roads

for the whole world to stare

under the shades of young foreign trees

they will carve out a vision in stone

and set it up in the alley for the passersby

who in return, will not perceive

what's been captured in it

there will be silence, foreseen

but not right now, maybe

the whirring of excavators and air conditioning

is enough to keep the mind going

i don't mind not being anyone

better so i am happy to be no one,

at least for now,

at least for july.