Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Why Was Angie Vasquez?
Angie, were you really
the source of gold behind the summer
inverse alchemy turning me to rust?
When a pilot cannot fly straight
it is all on you.
When a man finds a son, you were the lover.
When a woman stalks, halfheartedly
the dude who dropped her like a fish
it is you, the lip you did not wax
legs loved by the sun, and shadow
the laughter, knowing
where she begins, how she twists
the world with a Colombian smile.
You would not tell me anything
cept how to fuck friends
marry a hedge fund
soldier a quarterback.
And like all eternal drips
I came to understand
my exotic mind as some windblown
tropic bird with too many feathers
all over the place.
Angie no one wants to say so
but you’re the measure, always were.
When I eat food it’s you at the base.
My speech is your subtext.
When I see sunlight, it’s you, many colors.
When I ride the glacier it’s you I escape.
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