written by: Sergio A. Ortiz
“Get out of my dreams, get into my car”
the man had the nerve to drop
that line on me. The worst part was,
my universe crammed and I vibrated.
God, he looks so much like the cities I love,
and the cities I lost.
I saw him in Paris
petting my cat, in Madrid
opening a bottle of Dom Perignon
in the Jacuzzi on New Year’s Day,
in the songs of cicadas
that escaped summer by hiding
in the trees of Perth.
And here I am, with no sun in sight,
in the midst of what by force,
out of love, and by custom,
I choose as mine, while I wait
to see if he asks me again.
Amour, pourquoi ne pas monter
dans ma voiture?