Sunday, May 31, 2009


Can I take your plate away?
Asked the waitress to
Poet (Francisco Bustos) on my right
He said yes but I said
Hold on let me grab one of those
Mini tostadas and I took it & placed it
Inside my mouth

Crosthwaite who was at my left said
I want the tamal
You want me to reheated for you?
Asked the waitress
He said yes

Then Carlos Monsiváis walked in
With his entourage
And sat on the next table
Ordered diet coke
And ate saltines

Crosthwaite worked on the tamal
And asked me:
Do you want some?
I hesitated for awhile
And then he said
It’s not that spicy
It’s just normal spicy
I grabbed my fork and stabbed the tamal
Cut a piece from it
And ate it
He was right
Is was as bland as it gets

I noticed there was a guy following us
With a video camera
I was told by poet
(Brandon Cesmat)
He was a film student
Working on a film on borderline poets
He looked like a good kid
He sat and ate & drank with us

On the far end table sat a couple
The lady look so much like you
Her companion seemed upset
She seemed so sad
And her eyes were like your
South American eyes
He looked at me with hatred
But I was just looking
At her eyes

What they don’t understand
said Crosthwaite
Is that when I am looking
Towards the heavens
With my eyes fixated up above
I am actually working
I agreed with that notion
Crosthwaite continued:
Pablo Neruda’s wife
Was actually very hard on him
Had him on a tight rope
Perhaps all writers wives
Are similar

Meanwhile I was thinking
On the Montecristo’s
That the clerk behind the counter
Had showed me
Shuffling with temptation
To smoke
Or not smoke

From a far
An old doctor looked at me
Sitting stoically at his table
He has lost most of his hair
What little he has left is white
And I remembered
When I was 8
Convalescing in his hospital
The doctor stretched his arm
As if trying to shake my hand
Via long distance

The baby is looking at you
Crosthwaite’s fiancee said
I love babies I said
Good you can take her for a week!
Crosthwaite said
I rather make my own
I answered

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