27 marzo 2011

I wrote a poem in English for the first time
And it was heavy, cause I normally write in Spanish
(Because it's my second tongue)
so I can be more blunt and say things that I maybe feel uncomfortable saying
when I have to hear them with the harsh biting I get when I form the words in my head in English.

But no, I can't figure out what worked me up enough to write in English
especially cause it was about a boy who speaks English
which means he'll understand the poem, in English.
It would have been better to have written it in Spanish. (¿Would it?)
But it felt good to admit that I wanted to cry on the phone a lot
in my own language.
To make up the new word: "this-boy-wants-to-cuddle-with-me" to describe my feeling right before he shot me down.


I guess it was risky
cause I'm either gonna move him and get him back
or embarrass myself and he'll stop calling.
I'd rather not think about which of those possibilities it is.
Or maybe I'll embarrass myself for now and he'll not call for awhile
and then when a few weeks pass I'll post a really cute new profile photo
or something.
He'll, like, totally see it and it'll get his attention
and so he'll wanna write me
but I'll be too busy shuffling through comments on my new profile photo
to realize.
(Not true, cause I defs know that if he wrote me
I'd see it right away
and think "grewl")


I don't know why I'm writing about you in third person.
I texted you this morning and told you I wrote a poem about you in English on my blog
and I have a visitor tracker so I know that nobody from Orlando came yet.
I say yet cause I assume you will actually read this.


I'm being pretty stupid, cause I actually do really get where you're at
and I know it's gotta suck and I believe you when you say
that you really like me, but just got out of a relationship
and are going through a lot of shit.
But my poetic condition allows for nothing less than a hyper-trip out on the smallest of feelings.
So I come off looking like a baby,
dramatic,
slutty,
intense.


None of those qualities are "rebound boy." Geminis must make good rebound boys,
cause we're intense
and hurl ourselves into things
and have quickly changing attention.
But I really hope we didn't put our toes in too deep

and make me a "rebound boy."
Right now I'd rather you fuck anybody and have a really slutty week
so that when I arrive in Orlando,
and I'm there just to "visit my friend"
You're done rebounding and you take me home
to spoon.


I'm really good at spooning.
Now I'm just whoring myself out.
This poem is getting too long.
Just to clarify, this isn't the poem I texted you about, that one is two entries down,
after the little translation I did of a part of a poem by Ariana Reines
about "metonymy."
It talks about rubbing against something
and taking away some of it, like transference.
If we spoon on the weekend of April 15th
will you take on some of my poetic qualities,
and write me a beautiful letter,
instead of a clumsy phone call,
like the one you gave me last night.


But how could metonymy ever describe this relationship
when you're 1000 miles away
doing normal things
and I compulsively check facebook and my phone
to see if you wrote me?
Maybe while I'm in Orlando we'll fuck
and metonymy can become, like, synecdoche.


or maybe before then you'll call just to talk,
and then, just maybe, I'll smile and, like, be happy.

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