That bright star in the night
tonight glows full
becomes a KGB questioning spotlight
that not even the bull can escape.
Your unforgettable face
branded on my memory
follows me wherever I go.
I try to run away from the beautiful pain
walking down the sidewalk of life
hoping to trip on the answers
or on my broken question.
Looking for a manhole escape exit
or deadly trap under my feet
anything to take me back
to take me there
to Bach's BWV ten forty three
largo ma non tanto.
To where your hammock breasts
put me to sleep in your chloroform curls
as your hands cover my dreams in candy wrappings
melting me, like caramel
in you warm, tender lips.
That's what I mean when I say
your mouth is gateway to insanity
that you're an angelical demon
when we make a Miró on my bed.
The reflection of perfection
in a concave mirror
the zebras you paint on my back
the leopard prints I bite on your thighs
oceans of oceans of pleasures and broken fingernails
lenghts and miles and dusks and dawns and there's no measure
as we fuck in metronomes
and make love in bone crushing marble floors
when pillows are marshmallows
and tickles are thorns
when you become my world
and everything worth living for.
Cuernavaca, Mexico. Circa 1990
Just another boring day... I'm 21 years old, hanging out at the Mall with a couple of friends from college, looking for nothing and everything, walking down the cold, marble floors, when I suddenly saw her...
Pretty, but not beautiful, slim but not skinny, dark hair, brown eyes, about 5.5', in her late thirties, sporting a black and white dress, high heels and a matching jacket, very Chanel. She was sitting on one of the benches by the kiosk. She had been for at least an hour, when I finally decided to approach her.
I wasn't expecting to get lucky, but if I did it would be perfect, since my parents had left on a long trip to Brazil and I was home alone.
I was willing to ignore my mother's rule of not to bring women over, but in an attempt to avoid an argument I decided to bring this lady home in secrecy.
My parent's house sat at the end of a big estate, the gardener and his family lived at the entrance and the garages where at the end of a cul de sac, next to the pool. I remember explaining this to my new conquest, as I helped her climb inside the trunk of my car... I will never forget my mates, laughing in complete disbelief, staring down at us from a window at the mall.
"Pluonk" I shut the trunk and drive off to my place. Then expectation began to build, ah! my favorite roller coaster. Heart rushing, hands sweating, I have condoms in the glove box, I remember that, then I go over my poorly planned plan all over again in my mind, and I know I'm going to roast this chicken, when suddenly ..."Screech" slam on the brakes to not run a red light. I'm definitely nervous, and I can't wait to make it home. A few more minutes down the road and here we are... I open the gate and drive through the gardener's house... no one there.
I drive down the cul-de-sac and park my car, I get out and walk casually, look down the rest of the yard, a green carpet with palm trees on the edges, then down to the swimming pool, splashed with pink and red bougainvillea around it, making sure the coast is clear. Damn it, who cares? so I open the trunk and this poor woman seems a bit shaken, I give her a hand and gently start helping her out, but when she has one foot on the floor and one foot in the trunk I suddenly feel a rush to the head, that energy, goose bumps down my spine, cold air, someone behind me is staring at me...
"Pablo" - my mother yelled out loud
I turn around in disbelief to see my mother standing there, also in disbelief
"What is THAT?" - she yelled, questioning in anger and disappointment
.
"a spare" - I reply, in a soft voice, as my new friend finally made her way out of the trunk.
My friend and I ended up at a motel, and until this day my mother has not forgiven me. Not for breaking the rules (which I always have) but the sarcastic remark was too much for a supporter of the feminist movement in a global scale.
I never saw this woman again after that day, she was married and I didn't want any trouble. But I do think of her from time to time, particularly when I have a flat.
Acapulco, Circa 1992
It was late December, the cold, dirty air in Mexico City began cooling down and I decided to visit my dad in Acapulco, Manuel "Tum Tum" decided to join and so we boarded a bus and before we knew it we were on our way. My old man, uncommonly tall, slim and overly suntanned, greeted us warmly. I had longed for his deep voice and sarcastic Wit. Tum Tum couldn't help but stare at the earrings and deep blue eyes of my nordic old sea wolf dad. After settling in the house and eating breakfast we headed to the yacht, an 41" 2 mast sky blue and navy blue Morgan Catalina Class, anchored at the yacht club and that was the head start for another irresponsible vacation in A-trap-ulco.
New Years Eve and I'm sporting a sand color linen suit, a white silk shirt and moccasins. We had ticket's to a party at the "Daily Planet" discotheque, a very 80's comic book place with no character whatsoever where we were sure to pick up a couple of bad girls and drink half the open bar while dancing and bump and grinding to Technotronic and Simple Minds. So we did, nothing like a night club with fuschia couches and curtains, go figure. Midnight and we are toasting with pink champagne on plastic flutes, dancing and drunk as construction workers, fun.
I think it was 4am when we walked out of that place, tum tum had a bottle of Hornitos and I had a bottle of Chivas... so we went, walking down the Costera Avenue, stoned drunk, drinking straight from the bottle, to a Luau on the beach at the Plaza (where I would marry many years later).
It wasn't really a party, maybe about 20 people and 2 bonfires, some smoking pot, some swimming. I sat down on the beach, by the entrance to the pool, drinking scotch until I passed out and the lights turned off.
I'm dreaming that I am a calzone in an oven... I can't move, I'm sweating, it's is so hot in here and ...I can't move.. I CAN'T MOVE!!! and I wake up and open my eyes.
The sun is a ball of fire, burning right above me, which tells me it's around 10am... I'm still at the beach, at the Plaza, it's new years day and I am completely surrounded by girls in their swimming suits and guys playing beach sports and this place is packed, it's overcrowded and I still can't move, that's when I realize I'm buried in the sand, up to my neck.
The folks exchanging Coppertone next to me became mildly bewildered to see, (as I began to uncover myself from the sand) that I was actually wearing a suit, which after being under the moist sand now looked more like paper mache or some vegetable long forgotten in the bottom shelf of the fridge. My silk shirt looked more like a mop and my Nunn Bush moccasins where nowhere to be found. So there I was, on all fours, digging in the sand looking for my shoes. On new years day almost close to noon, at one of the World's most famous resorts... I can't remember any other time in my life when I made so many people laugh at the exact same time.
I eventually found my shoes, walked in the Hotel, got a room and went back to sleep.
My dignity still remains buried, somewhere in Acapulco Beach.
