desapar
desaparecidos
next to my park there is a patio where women
in fine clothes eat macarons +sip $8 teas from
france it is 3:15 this tiny enclave a decidedly
non-bohemian scene
then into the park’s deeps to contemplate
another reality one where prada+marc jacobs
have no currency it is dark + green psychiatric
patients slumber +someone’s grandfather takes
a leak by an oak tree
spring turning to summer 2015 lilacs rotting
yesterday a woman said: i am good +sick and as
i sat by her mother-of-pearl bed i sniffed the scent
of a reaper
you always smell so good what do i smell like?
i have no perfume no cream don’t worry you smell
heavenly
perhaps her scent will waft up next spring 2016 when
in uruguay the disappeared ones buried in mass graves
or thrown into the ocean the ones who are not quite dead
yet will rise up en masse
a woman in a black leather pantsuit studded+spangly walks
a bicycle through the park it is 30 celsius +she smells like the
cure for all evils
__
Spring 2015
songanddancegirl 