—for
Pablo Rodriguez
Comes
the vibrato of human existence
pulsing
with the florid energy of birds—
The
audience in the balcony looks down
on
the crescendo-climbing rainbow
graduating
from the nightclub schools of the world.
¡Eso
es! A savvy voice alights on the limbs
of
trees tangoing with the juicy wind.
Liana
vines against city streets.
In
the language of skin,
we
climbed out of the trees
to
dance on the land, without caesura.
The
timbre of lime, mango and blue notes
sing
of tropical leaf structures.
The
raucous flight of macaws
parrots
the jeweled feathers of night
dressed
in fireworks and champagne.
¡Alegre!
Porque las estrellas bailan conmigo!
A
delicious chill—modern fusion.
Oh
yes, deep in the thighs.
He
leans against the wall, cool
familiarity
addressing us tú in the barrios.
The
sound of night has changed the color of its dreams.
The
siren rain finds us so civilized, so convivial,
it
sambas out: Mueve, mueve, mueve.
On
the androgynous pillow of sleep,
the
pupiled eye of night is restless
as
a blue guitar, for tomorrow will find
the
world young and bright:
a
glistening sun
in
the heart of the papaya.
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