manymistypes:

april 15, 2015 - sidbranca / thisbedisaship

today I was thinking about learning spanish,
mostly for small reasons centered around myself

to sing Selena songs at karaoke
to save myself the gringa tax and occasional embarrassments

to have something to talk to my little brother about on the phone while he’s at his new school because lord knows I’ve forgotten all my calculus and I am too afraid to talk to him about anything real because I know we both still have slugs in our blood we are both not always well we are both not always sure whether we are having the appropriate reaction we both have built such delicate structures to keep the madness rushing out and breaking everything so let’s please for my own sanity’s sake stick to adjective agreements and dormitory food

to better make my way through southern california
to remind this boy of his mother in panama
before his fluttering hands push his hair back and pick at tablecloths and move drinks up to his lips until they finally settle tight around my neck
while he is finally very still, while he looks me dead in the eye

but then I wished I could tell this man standing on the sidewalk
that he didn’t need to feel bad in that moment
that I had been there
that I have taken many trains on other people’s dimes
that I likely will again

and now, alone in bed, I simply have my fragment french
and the half-remembered ending to someone else’s poem:

todo cuanto los dos hemos callado
lo tenemos que hablar