Fall Bouquet
“El cariño que te tengo. Yo no lo puedo negar.”
Paris sun
is the glow of her cafes.
It is a dusk sun that burns in the night,
the warmth of crowds,
bright minds while shadows fall.
Cigarette ambers,
the heat of Bossanova bass
in St. Germain.
“Llego a Cueto, voy para Mayarí”
Fallen leaves of orange, gold, copper
I make a bouquet
for our house of glass love.
I fill rooms with colours
Draw before you lose them
Orange umbrellas
“¡Y ahora si quieren bailar,
búsquense otro timbalero!”
You opened my heart
with a wound of light.
There are flamenco guitars and sheeshas
on roof terraces
There are nights such as these
–filled with stars–
in Tunis or Bayreuth.
There are dancing sunrises in Ibiza
and white cabanas on Miami beaches.
There is a cafe where our traveling souls will meet