The tale of Ricky

 It was the year 2178 when the detection, final definition and ability to produce dark energy and matter made the creation of a certain kind of exotic matter possible, so the creation of wormholes was possible too. This enabled space travel outside of your traditional run-of-the-mill space craft, and enabled the terraforming of Mars without costly, heavy equipment being sent there on risky space missions inasmuch as Earth was able to transport said equipment through said holes. Mind you, and as Richard Feynman postulated a while ago, Earthlings were not able to readapt to the cruel of Earth's gravity once they lived on Mars since, well, their bodies accustomed and in the case of born-Martians, grew to the frailty of Mars' gravity. Bone would rupture and organs would squish if going back to the primordial planet. So going to Mars, or being born there, was a stay-on-Mars status quo. It was like that for a while until Daemon Lintor stabilised the man-made exotic matter to the point of allowing time travel. It was not stable enough to make long ''distance'' time travel, especially if you meant to also travel in space since it was one or the other. The further one could go was months less than twelve, so the Astronomic Agency set a limit of one month as the permitted amount of time someone could go back. To avoid irrefutable, devastating time paradoxes, time travel was highly regulated as to conditions assuring and reassuring their impossibility had to be closely set and monitored. Not that it was cheap to travel like that either. So, if a certain position, whether clerical, political or entertainment-related, required a physical back and forth between Earth and Mars, time travelers would need to indulge in time travel showers, a day or week's per shower, to skip the adaptation to Mars' environment and make bodies as close as possible to how they were when they crossed over. This would permit bodies stay Earth-like while visiting the red planet. Short-term memories were at times affected, but long-term seldom were, thus travelers recorded why they had made the trip. As you might have guessed, Martians were not able to go back to the blue planet to do whatever because they would still rupture and squish, so this was just done by ''blues'', who also needed very expensive suits which granted Martian navigation. Time travel was dangerous as well since each shower subtracted around two years of life cause tissue degraded due to exotic radiation.

Alfred Lintor, born 2323, discovered a method that stabilised exoticism of matter, hence one could go back a couple of years. When Alfred was on Earth, he was offered the position of Chief Astrophysicist Consultant in the Perseverance Martian University, which he accepted right away with a simple ''Yes'' and a wry, sincere smile. He told no one before deciding, thinking it would mean a better future. Earth traditions would not interfere with his research of matter, so he could go as astray as he wanted, being regulated but never watched over the shoulder. Alfred lay in bed that night wishing he had been offered the position even earlier in this life (he was 33) so his experiments reached their goals sooner. He thought of the endless possibilities of working at the University before he fell asleep. The following morning, the smell of synthetic bacon woke him up. Natural bacon would not have done so, but synthetic one was, well, so false that its creators would try quite hard to convey the sensation of eating the real deal through aroma. You could never blame food makers for trying. There was naturally still actual bacon on Earth, but it was so pricey a professor was not able to afford it. When Alfred reached the kitchen that morning, he saw Teal, his four-month girlfriend, cooking breakfast. They had agreed to meet at his place that day to go out for a meal, but he had forgotten. When she saw none of her messages replied, she simply used her key to come in and prepare something. After going to the kitchen, he approached her, pulled her close from behind, covered her mouth and grabbed her by the neck as she liked it, rubbed himself against her while she moaned, turned her around and furiously kissed her. They made love and fucked until very well past noon. It was then, while Alfred hugged Teal from behind, covered by a simple cotton bed sheet, that he decided to tell her. Because of the position he was in while he told her, he did not watch her open her eyes so widely that they hurt. He was so excited about the news that he could not hear the grinding of her teeth while he said he had accepted the post and that they would leave in two months' time. When he asked what she thought, she immediately stood up and started pacing around the bed. She was wearing nothing but one of the black cotton thongs that he loved and that he had bought for her three months before, so he admired her for some time, looking at her buttocks and hips, before he asked what the problem was. She made grating, wordless sounds for a minute before she began shouting. —What the fuck is your problem, Alfred? You say you love me, yet you make decisions, a life-altering decision like this one, without even mentioning it to me first?! How am I supposed to believe you, asshole? She started throwing things on his chest of drawers at him. The first two hurt a little, but the following ones started to really sting in his arms while he tried to cover himself using as much as possible. —I mean, I can't go there, and especially on such a short notice. Two fucking months?! Are you serious?! It is not a year would suffice either. I don't want to go to fucking Mars, you jerk! Teal started to dress herself. When Alfred began to get up, she told to lie down. —Don't you move, prick, and don't you follow me, asshole. She went to the den, grabbed her bag from where she had thrown it earlier, and made for the door and slammed it as hard as she could. He waited around half an hour before he called on his wrist phone. He heard the Yorkie ringtone she had switched to the first morning they spent together after having been together all night long coming from the kitchen: she had left her wrist phone there since she had decided to play some music while cooking. Alfred felt hopeless at first, but hopeful later because she would not risk missing any updates about the job she had just applied.

Days passed, then a couple of weeks, and Alfred felt there was something really wrong. He started calling their friends in common to inquire whether Teal was alright. Everybody mentioned they had no clue, that they had not seen her since Lucrecia's birthday party a month before. At first he thought that they were simply covering for her, Teal telling everyone what an idiot he had been about the whole Mars affair. After all, they were rather her friends than his. But then, when hearing what sounded like actual concern in their voices, he decided to begin looking for her. It was not easy cause her family, the whole lot, had left for Mars the year before. She had never explained to him why she did not leave with them. —It is not me, she always exclaimed every time he pressed her on the matter. In the meantime, Alfred was to also plan his relocation, packing things, selling others, looking at his and her wrist phone every now and then to no avail. When the Dean of the  Perseverance Martian University called in to ask whether he was ready, he started sobbing having realised there was no time to continue looking. He excused himself by saying he was having some type of Earth blues, which was not unheard of from people moving off-planet, and said he was.

It was 2357 when he discovered the aforementioned method and devised what he called Flux Capacitor in honor of his late great-grandfather who had shown him a very old, 20th-century film about a boy who travels back in time. The device was not bigger than your regular twenty-two cubic feet fridge, so he could fit it in his pick-up. He left two of the three he had made at the University, one to be used there, another for spare parts. Alfred began experimenting, going further back every trip, until he reached a year. He recorded a message telling himself why he was doing it to avoid starting with a blank slate as to the further he went, the fuzzier his memory got. When he was able to go back a year three consecutive times, he decided to cross the wormhole back to Earth. Due to the high radiation around space travel cabins, facilities with them had nothing but travelers in. The entrance to the road to the facilities was heavily guarded, but his being a highly regarded scientist made it possible for him to come up with a valid excuse: taking new, experimental equipment to the wormhole so it could be tested and even sent to Earth for inspection. Dumbly enough, he was the sole one who needed to sign the papers because of various administrative loopholes. So Alfred took the one he had purposefully made easier to assemble, as one would a lawn travel chair, and that he would take with himself every time he time traveled, and went to the wormhole facilities. He waited until Earth's night to go back. Leaving the building on Earth was easy since as explained before, there was no one there. When he reached the gates at the end of the road to finally leave the facilities, he explained to the military personnel that his travel had gone awry and had stayed the afternoon to revise the equipment before someone went over the following day. He explained the box with the portable Flux Capacitor as some parts he had detected were faulty, so the technician for the day after would come with working ones already. Again, due to his position, there was no doubt he was not lying, so he was able to leave after a cleansing treatment to wash off any possible radioactive residue. After leaving the gates, he went to his abandoned apartment, which was completely empty. When he arrived, he assembled the Capacitor in the bathroom, and traveled two months into the past. He had it in the bathroom since the morning he told Teal about Mars, he had first stopped there for a quick face wash. When he opened his eyes, he did not recollect why he was in front of the mirror. A deep boom along with a vibration came from his wrist phone, and a video started playing. It told him he was back on Earth to look for her. He finally grasped that he was not the Alfred from that time but the one who had lived without her for a year or so, ran to the kitchen, and saw her standing there, stirring whatever was in the electrowok.

He hesitated about what to do. He thought of running to her, getting to his knees and asking for forgiveness. He thought of acting nonchalantly and casually dropping the news while hiding he had accepted. He thought about acting natural and having breakfast as if the most awful year of his life had not happened. —Everything alright, love? She had never called him that, ever, so his legs trembled. He walked towards her with an empty mind. When he felt she was about to turn around, he finally approached her, pulled her close from behind, covered her mouth and grabbed her by the neck as she liked it, rubbed himself against her while she moaned, turned her around and furiously kissed her. They made love and fucked until very well past noon. It was then, while Alfred hugged Teal from behind, covered by a simple cotton bed sheet, that Alfred thought clearly again of where he was and why. He hesitated. He hesitated bad. He attempted to say he missed her, that he would never forget that morning, that she was the love of his life, but he plainly muttered he had been offered the position of Chief Astrophysicist Consultant in the Perseverance Martian University and that he had accepted right away.

When Alfred came back to his apartment on Mars early in 2356, he started crying. He could not determine why he had lived that loop. Why he let everything unravel the way it had. Why he was the coward who had not dared say it had been a year without her. Why he was not brave enough to leave everything as was and stay a life with Teal. He lay in his bed and kept crying until he fell asleep. A year passed. One morning, he grabbed the portable Flux Capacitor, which had a blank copy of the forms to enter the wormhole facilities in its box, and left. In the forthcoming weeks he traveled one, two, three, four, five, several times back to 2356, went back to Earth, and did almost the exact same thing: he went to his empty, abandoned apartment, assembled the portable Flux Capacitor in the bathroom, traveled two months into the past, felt a deep boom along with a vibration coming from his wrist watch, saw the video playing in it, ran to the kitchen where Teal was standing, ran to her without hesitation, stopped to listen to her say, Everything alright, love?, to finally approach her, pull her close from behind, cover her mouth and grab her by the neck as she liked it, rub himself against her while she moaned, turn her around and furiously kiss her. Every time did they make love and fuck until very well past noon. Eventually Alfred stopped going back to 2357, traveling back to Earth as soon as possible. Eventually Alfred stopped watching the whole video. Eventually Alfred stopped listening to her say something since he did not recall what she was going to say. Eventually he stopped grabbing her by the neck, but every time he covered her mouth, rubbed himself against her while she moaned, turned her around and furiously kissed her until they ended up making love and fucking until very well past noon. One, two, three, four, several, many times this happened. But then, then, while Alfred hugged Teal from behind, covered by a simple cotton bed sheet, she eventually got up and started dressing. He asked her what the fuck was wrong, using a tone of voice he had never used with her, the same ire one he used when people did not do what he wanted them to do. Teal simply turned around, slowly, as if time would eventually stop. —I don't feel like it is Alfred who just made love to me. She went to the den, grabbed her bag from where she had thrown it earlier, and made for the door and closed it as softly as she could. Alfred thought about getting up when he felt pain in his chest. When he tried to move his arm, he noticed he had no strength and felt a sharp pain as if it were broken. He began trembling, and knew right then why he was unable to do something different after fucking. With his last breath he uttered, A paradox...

 My bear

My blood

My passion

My blood

Forever

Camino

Te veo acostada a mi lado. Desnuda. Sonriente. Perfecta. Adolorida. Somnolienta. Perfecta. Tan cerca que como escribió Cortázar, tus ojos me parecen uno, al igual que los míos a ti. Tan cerca que me bochorno con facilidad. Tan cerca que quiero explotar junto a ti. Otra vez. Y otra y otra y una vez más. Soy piedra de río cuando estoy así contigo, bañado por el cauce de tu existencia. Me preguntas qué pienso. Nada, te digo, porque, ¿qué piensa una simple piedra a mitad del día, en el sol de finales de invierno, perpleja, caliente, existiendo sin ser nada más que un torrente de circunstancias? Aunque las circunstancias son, por decirlo así, ríspidas, brutales, hermosas, totales. Porque así la vida siempre. Porque no importa cuánto corra o respire o me oculte, así son las cosas. Porque eres tú y tú y ya. Tú y tú y la música de una trompeta al fondo. Porque tú y tú camino a la nada y al todo. Me preguntas una vez qué pienso mientras me golpeas el hombro. Tú me pasas, te digo mientras mi índice derecho se acerca lentamente a tu sexo.

Osa

¿Qué no te he dicho ya?

¿Qué no te dicho ya que me creas siempre pero a veces no?

Porque dudar es humano,

Porque tener y temer lo es aún más,

Porque ya decidí un día mandarte al diablo,

Aunque inmediatamente me arrepentí,

Porque entendí en ese instante,

Que puedo enfadarme, querer dejar de hablarte el resto del día,

Y aguantarme las ganas de morderte y besarte,

Pero no dejarte.

Qué estúpido sería buscar dejar de ser partículas,

De aquellas creadas con átomos que existen desde el inicio del 

tiempo,

Y si no desde el inicio, al menos en el constante vaivén del espacio y tiempo,

Podré morir, pero no dejar de existir,

Impreso ya en la cadena de acontecimientos,

Que son el universo o donde navega el universo o cualquier maldita cosa que haya más allá.

Te digo día sí y día no,

Amor de mi vida, sol y luna y estrellas,

Osa, pasión,

Sangre, musa,

A veces me crees, a veces no,

Y no importa,

Y no importa,

Y no importa un ápice,

Porque buscarte, tocarte, penetrarte, soñarte,

Escucharte y hablarte,

Es como quiero que sepas, que creas, y no.

Obvio, perderte no sería buscar un puente y tirarme,

Porque mis perros, ya sabes,

Porque otra vida no hay, ya sabes,

Mas,

Mas,

Mas nada sería igual.

Yo sé que todo imbécil que se ha sentido enamorado,

Grita, llora, berrea, bebe y canta,

Que sin ti la vida no será igual,

Que los colores de un campo de flores no serán igual,

Que las flores marchitarán,

Que el cielo será de nubarrones,

Mas no pienso igual,

Las flores, los colores, el cielo claro o no, allí seguirán,

Impávidos a mi dolor, mudos sin poder consolarme,

Y yo seré incapaz de sentir algo,

En el día más soleado, en la lluvia más reconfortante,

Porque tu no estás a mi lado,

Porque no es que la vida cambie si no estás,

Sino que la chingada vida no cambia, como si tú no existieras y a la vida le diese igual.

Así que igual y desigual, ¿ah?

Tan abyecto y abstracto como tenerte y no,

Te tengo porque vas en mi corazón y mi mente y mis recuerdos, en mi piel y en mi aliento,

Así justito como voy en los tuyos,

Pero no te tengo porque estás lejos, en tu auto, manejando aquí o allá,

En vez de estarte haciendo el amor,

De probar lo terso de tu sexo y húmedo de tus gemidos,

Porque así son las cosas a veces,

Aquellas veces en las que mi consuelo es cerrar los ojos y tenerte a radio control,

Y tocarme con desdén porque son años luz de diferencia entre tu piel y la mía, tu tacto y el mío.

¿Qué te he dicho ya?

Que te amo, que te amo por dos,

Que si el Sol estalla antes de tiempo tu mano es la que quiero en la mía,

Que el mundo me envidia por tenerte aunque la mayoría del mundo ni lo sepa,

Que no cambiaría absolutamente nada de lo que ha pasado hasta hoy,

Contigo o sin ti,

Porque lo terrenal asoma en lo perfecto si es que tu día y mi día se funden de cualquier manera por minúscula que parezca.

Ahora que lo pienso, creo no te he dicho, que alguien me espetó hace un par de semanas, Qué historia la suya...

 Y hoy

Se va muriendo 

Cada fibra de mi ser

 Why must there be because?

It is simply what it is:

A man loving a woman,

Simply, profoundly,

Willing, wanting,

To set the world, life, God,

On fire,

To be with her...

 Voices

Voices in the dark

 It's on days like this when I confirm that you got me. Utterly and profoundly. I mean, it's not like I'm not able to function. To eat, to walk, to talk, to move around. I can still survive. Yet, yet there is something missing. Rather someone. Rather you. Cause it's not like I need anything, but rather everything. And that everything is you. Your touch, smell and taste. Your voice and laughter. Your bare existence.

It is somehow sad how I existed without knowing there is someone like you. So perfectly broken. So humanly perfect. So worthy of all the love and care in the world. How did I fucking wander life before you and survived? Not even looking for you cause well, I knew nothing. We've talked about the what ifs of having perhaps meeting before, like, would I be as mental as I am about you? Would you? Cause I am starting to believe I needed to shit over my life as I did so you fell in love with the man I am today. We would never know, right?

So, it is a Saturday. January the 31st to be precise. I am sitting typing this to you, for you. Sighing like a stupid teen in love. Smiling as if I had taken a drug you gave me the night before. Having thought of you all day long. Cause you are part of my mind, my soul and now my body. And this last sentence is a huge mistake cause I am not mine any longer. I am utterly definitely yours.

 E se ti lasciassi, Non potrei dormire, no, no, no, Non vorrei farlo, Perché sognerei il tuo bel viso, I tuoi seni rosei, la tua mano che mi cerca, E la tua voce, così perfetta, a volte così estatica, a volte così furibonda. Crollerei, Perché sei tanto, tantissimo e un soffio, Sei, Sole e ombra, Un pane alla gelatina di lamponi alle dieci e un sorso di birra alle undici, Il calore sulla spiaggia e il freddo all’alba portando fuori i cani. Non è che io abbia bisogno di te, sai? È semplicemente che ti voglio, Come lavanda a mezzogiorno, Non è che io abbia bisogno di te, Ma sei arrivata nella mia vita, E mi prendi e mi invadi, mi gonfi e mi travolgi, Tu così tu, così tu, Foglia che cade in autunno, Portata dal vento verso le mie mani, E ti prendo, e ti accosto al petto, sul lato sinistro, E sospiro, perché mi riempi di felicità.

 So this is how it feels,

Not wanting to do anything,

Fucking anything,

Absolute fuck all,

Except being next to you.

 No quiero a alguien como tú...

Te quiero a ti.

Osos

 Es esta extraña sensación, ¿saben?

No está y está,

No le veo, mas le siento,

Porque recuerdo su tacto,

Sus dedos recorriendo mi cabello,

Su lengua contra la mía,

Es tan vivido todo.

De un libro aprendí,

Que la materia jamás se toca,

Sino es sólo repulsión entre átomos,

Y así me gusta imaginar,

Que desafía todo,

Las leyes naturales, 

Y que cuando me alcanza,

La mano, el muslo,

Con sus caderas el sexo,

El orden de las cosas desaparece,

El universo se contrae hasta ser un punto infinitesimal,

Y explota una vez más.

No le veo mas le siento,

Mientras escucho un tributo a Bowie en la tv,

Al encontrarme alcoholizado a solas,

Con todas la luces ciegas en mi apartamento,

El azul de la sala de conciertos reflejándose en mis anteojos,

Podríamos ser héroes retumbando en todos lados.

Le siento, mas le extraño,

Casualidad tal vez que sentí frío está noche arropado en mis cobijas,

Nada que decir, nada que hacer,

Me preparo un café, y nada cambia,

Causalidad que tengo frío esta noche,

Sin su aliento perdiéndose en el mío,

Mis brazos que son suyos en los suyos.

Y le siento, le extraño, le extraño tanto,

Deseando que vaya cual luz el tiempo cuando no está, y que ande lento cuando nos encontremos,

Desnudos, o sentados uno junto al otro,

En una jodida oficina sin poder mirarnos mas que a ratos,

Deseando poner mis manos en su vientre o su cadera y aliviarle aunque sea algo,

Mientras todo el mundo gira allá afuera sin nosotros,

Imperturbables, impávidos,

Con el calor de mi cuerpo que es tu cuerpo arropando al tuyo,

Mientras andamos,

Mientras cogemos.

Apago las luces, la tv,

Me hundo en las cobijas, cierro los ojos,

Pienso en tu voz, y mi noche es mejor.

Cuando te vea de nuevo, se detendrá el tiempo. No habrá ruido, ni campanas al aire. Ni perros reclamando a sus dueños cualquier cosa: sácame, espérame, pélame. Ni claxons, sirenas, o murmullos de los transeúntes. Cuando te vea de nuevo, las aves se detendrán a medio vuelo, sin poderle cantar a los árboles que nos vemos, que soy capaz de envolverte con mis brazos, sentir tu pelo haciéndome cosquillas en la nariz. Que sientas mis suspiros al estar contra mi pecho. El Sol dejará de incendiarse, de emitir calor, el mundo se llenará de frío, pero no importará porque como siempre, mi calor será tuyo. Y cuando te vea de nuevo, te miraré a los ojos y olvidaré mi nombre, seré un simple hombre admirándote, queriéndote. Me acercaré a tu rostro, te besaré en la mejilla, y te diré, Mis días son días cuando estás en ellos. Te besaré en los labios, te tomaré del brazo, y me preguntarás a dónde vamos.

Azul

I've never been so far away from the Sun. Five hundred and eighty-eight million kilometers away from home if the instruments are correct. It better be worth it. Jupiter and its majesty on starboard. Saturn showing in the distance, shily, ringless due to the distance. It better fucking be worth it. I had no option, savvy? I miss the food, you know, while having a picnic in the local park, drinking a beer, listening to Shostakovich. Above all, I miss her. Her messy hair. Her silky skin. Her joyous lips. My boss has assured me this is the last trip I gotta make. ''Water mining is not just about you or your job, but a gift for everyone,'' he said while giving me my assignment papers. ''There is no life without water'', I tell myself night in, night out. So I am here, alone, consuming too much breaderrill. I said I would not smoke, but here I am having one, floating towards Europa, strapped to the most obnoxious seat. ''You cannot be floating adrift aboard the vessel when you are so near the Belt or your destination, you jackass,'' said Vice Admiral Roccoforte last time I came here. So they added sensors to the chairs so they could track how much I spend sitting. Fucking pussies... The smoke detectors I can handle, but these piece of shit sensors... I gotta wear a catheter for three months while I do the mining, and have exactly five minutes three times a day to relief myself, jesus. The robots bring the food and water packs from storage. I can switch to the ergo-recliner to have a better night of sleep. However, I am still strapped to a damned chair. There is no life without water. Best part of space by myself: I can blast music as loud as as I want. ''I choose you with grace,'' sings Kele. ''I choose you with sensitivity.'' It's oh so funny how I ran into that song, unknowingly, unsuspectingly. I sang excited about the gorgeous music. I learnt it on guitar cause it's good practice. Not anymore. Cause I am now elated. ''They are good lyrics,'' I told Julian once. Now I'm moved to the point of tears. Cause of you. You, sip of wine in the Autumn. You, the sweetest breeze in the Spring. You, goddess of fire. ''I will understand,'' fills the rooms of the ship over and over. I send a voice message to the control room letting them know I'm around two hundred and fifty-seven thousand kilometers away from the landing spot. I do not care if the music in the background makes it hard for them to understand, they got the voice filtering to make out what I saying with a ciggie in my lips. I prep another voice message. ''Let me be the one to shine on you. Better to let, better to let you know. I am a fool in love,'' I softly croon to you. Bot 05 brings some pop and a pack of chips. ''Alcohol in insterstellar solo missions is no longer allowed'', said the assigment papers. Damn it. I slowly close my eyes while the white moon in the horizon grows larger. I ask the computer to decrease the temperature in the cockpit while I cross my arms and get a thermo-sheet. I think of you, my bear, my blood, my passion, my muse. I miss you...

 Me tomas del cabello mientras me cuentas algo que pasó hace mucho y nos reímos. El Sol si apenas entra a través de la persiana ya que es un día lleno de cirros que debilitan el calor que acompaña a la luz. Pero tú no tienes frío porque estás en mis brazos. Mis necios brazos que siempre hacen mil cosas a la vez, pero que eres capaz de detener y que se enfoquen en ti. Porque me quieres. Porque te quiero. Me dices por mi nombre sin buscar nada. Acaricias mi mejilla sin querer nada más que sentirme. Me besas con la simple intención de comprobar lo terso de mis besos. Hay música de fondo, ruidos en la calle y en mi casa. Sin embargo, ese silencio mientras nos miramos logra ensordecer al mundo. Preguntas qué hora es, te respondo, y simplemente dices que el tiempo es un sinsentido circunstancial cuando estamos juntos. Recorro tus muslos con mi dedo índice mientras me preguntas cuáles son tus flores favoritas. No sé qué responder. Orquídeas, bobo, orquídeas, musitas mientras volteas los ojos y ríes al final. Acaricias mi cabello una vez más. Te alcanzo el agua y tomas un sorbo grande. Te arropo con mis brazos y te beso en la mejilla. Te acercas y susurras que el frío es mal recuerdo cuando estamos así, enroscados, salobres, empiernados, fundidos, eternos.

 It is not what you think. It is how she sunshines my days and steams my cold days. It is her smell in the morning, and her body in the shower. It is the soft of her lower lip and the mess of her hair. How she holds me, how she sees me, how she tastes me. It is the moon of her skin and the notes in her humming. Cause we danced, we drank, we made love. We fucked, we slept and we broke bread. It is the warmth of her touch. Her tears, her falls, her laugh. Her complaints, her moans, her smiles. Cause there is nothing, absolutely nothing like her. Broken perfection, every beat in my heart.

On the evening of April 26th.

''It is not what you think. It is how she sunshines my days and steams my cold days. It is her smell in the morning, and her body in the shower. It is the soft of her lower lip and the mess of her hair. How she holds me, how she sees me, how she tastes me. It is the moon of her skin and the notes in her humming. Cause we danced, we drank, we made love. We fucked, we slept and we broke bread. It is the warmth of her touch. Her tears, her falls, her laugh. Her complaints, her moans, her smiles. Cause there is nothing, absolutely nothing like her. Broken perfection, every beat in my heart.''

That's what it said in the piece of paper I found crumpled on one of the benches in the park 20 minutes away from my house. It was the park at which we used to have breakfast once in a while. Sitting from across each other, sharing bites of whatever we fancied that morning cause we never had the same cravings. Except for fucking, savvy? But I did not care cause we always ended up sharing. Anything, everything. We both changed by being simply together. I still remember how his hair felt against my face while we lied down and playfully tussled in the grass after each meal. Lord do I miss it. Why, I mean... For fuck's sake... The paper looks like torn from a bigger piece of it, like discarded. I mean, who can blame it, right? For fuck's sake. Why today of all days did I have to find this? It's been a year, a fucking year, and I cannot think of anything else. His cheeks rubbing against my thighs. His voice rumbling in my body. It would take a message, a simple message, I know it. ''We will find each other,'' was the last sentence I heard him say. There is not much finding if I look for him. I read the piece of paper, over and over. I can't get up and walk away. My hand trembles when I grab the phone. A simple message. I comb my hair to the side so I don't set it on fire when I light a cigarette. Fire. He was fire. I go to my message history. I listen to the last audio he sent before that sour day. The one I never had the courage to which to listen. I call her. ''Hello,'' she says. With the same candor she used every time I went to their place. ''Listen,'' I say say shakily, ''where was it you decided to bury him?''

 I still feel your legs around my neck. Pulling me in, so I can't stop. You are fire in my mouth. You are the sweetest taste of almonds. I hear you call my name, asking me to tell you if I like you, while you shower me, while we tremble. I still feel your hand grabbing me by the hair, pulling hard, showing me how fast or slow. My tongue, my lips were created for this. To feel you, to gratify you. You are fire in my soul. Don't stop, you moan, don't stop. Nothing matters but you and me, melting like piles of salt in the rain.

 Te huelo en mis sábanas,

En mi cobertor, en mi ropa, en mi toalla,

Porque te llevo en el alma,

Y te llevo a cualquier lado al que voy,

Al supermercado, al paseo con mis perros,

Cuando tomo una ducha, cuando voy por un café.

El frío ya no es frío porque estás ahí,

Llenándome de calor y lujuria,

No agacho la cabeza porque si por alguna razón estuvieras cerca así te podría ver,

Y sonreiría tontamente, abriendo mis brazos hacia ti,

Sin preguntarte qué haces aquí, sino sólo sentirte,

Besándote para aprender una vez más del sabor de tu saliva, de la textura de tu lengua, del contorno de tus labios.

Y te pienso a cada rato,

Porque el Sol es un cuerpo naciente después de haber sentido el calor de tus ojos,

Porque la noche y sus terrores son un simple respiro después de dormir a tu lado,

Porque soy supernova después de haber probado tu cuerpo.

 Si pudiese,

Me haría tan pequeño como la más minúscula de las pelusas en tu bolsillo,

Y me iría contigo,

Para sentirte,

Para no extrañarte,

Te pediría agua y algo de comer de vez en cuando,

Y a veces recobraría mi tamaño,

Y te besaría furtivamente, cuando duermes, cuando nadie nos vea, cuando me lo ordenes.

Si pudiera,

Tomaría un pedazo de mi carne,

De mi pecho, mi muslo, qué sé yo,

Y lo pondría a un lado de tu corazón,

Para sentir como palpita cuando te escribo desde lejos, cuando me extrañas, cuando piensas en mí.

Si pudiera, si se pudiera, trataría de no desprenderme de esa forma en la que me miras cuando me ves caminar hacia ti.

 No entiendes... De verdad no entiendes lo mucho que te extraño. Cómo me revienta la cabeza, cómo se me marchita el cuerpo. Y llegas tu con tus ojos de luna hacia abajo, ojos rojizos, encendidos porque me miras. Ojos vivos y cansados a la vez. Porque duermo y no. Porque te tengo y no. Porque mi cuerpo vibra cual alas de libélula volando sin obstáculos, zigzagueando, siendo sólo una libélula, sin destino, sin prisa por llegar cuando te pienso, así, tú bajo el mismo cielo y tan lejos. Con tus ojos de sol final de atardecer, ya sabes, cuando no son rojos cual flama terrorífica, sino de un café suave, que acaricia el alma. Quiero tus sabores, tus olores. Quiero todo tu cuerpo, con sus imperfecciones y sus unicidades. Todo mundo me habla de lo horrible de perderse, no saber dónde se está, si alguien conocido les escucha, les estira la mano quizás. Pero yo busco perderme en ti, sentir como tu mano y tu voz me guían, me muestran cosas. Porque me tienes. Me tienes. Jamás dudes que me tienes. Y no lo dudas porque sé te tengo. Como Júpiter a sus Lunas, danzando al mismo ritmo, constante, errante andando en el tiempo. Te tengo. Estática en mi cabello. Cada pulgada de mi erizada piel. Mientras me tiro al sillón y me duele todo. Mientras camino por la calle paseando a mis perros. Yo sé que entiendes lo mucho que te extraño. Es simplemente que, a estas horas, no puedo evitar decirte cualquier cosa con tal de sentirte un poquitito más. 

Oso

 Ya lo dijo Pellicer, he olvidado mi nombre,

Porque tú no estás aquí,

Con tu cabello desordenado y tu rostro acalorado,

Con tu voz diciéndome la vida,

Mientras el mundo se resquebraja, allá, a lo lejos.

Busco café, busco cigarros,

Pero nada me alivia,

Simplemente espero ya a que el zanate venga y me cuente,

Si te ha visto, si te escuchó reír, si algún otro le ha contado de ti esto, mas nada.

Trato de perderme en un libro, en una sinfonía o escribiendo,

Para ver si así me encuentras y me das los buenos días,

Porque cuando llamas mi nombre éste cobra sentido,

El Sol es Sol, las hojas son hojas, y mi sangre eres tú.

Bubbles

And I will write you like the poem that you are...

Carrie Rudzinski

 There is no up, nor down. Floating in ignominy. Cause I am the one that can think of just one thing. And that is you. I dared approach your eyes. And I now lay lost. Blissful endless continuum. There is no up, nor down. Cause dreams are mere stills if you ain't in them. Like blooming fields of tulips. Like crashing waves during a storm. I want you. In blue. As paper planes launching from the highest building in the city, tumbling down in currents filled with the voice of Aphrodite.

There is no up, nor down. I cannot lie and curl as I used to. Gravity betrayed me cause it is only you to whom it will listen, gracefully contorting it if you brush it with the tips of your left hand. All I do is close my eyes and hope. Hope for you to come close and close and close until your nose rubs against mine. And then I die cause that is how I feel when you kiss me. Transcending the nine heavens, flying amongst cherubs, bathed in daylight. I want you. I want you. Like Ahab wants the whale. 

Cause I am soap bubbles reflecting the Sun, bouncing in the wind when I am with you. Cause I am the sound of the last dying cello in an étude about a flying comet when I am with you. Have I said that I want you? Do you mind hearing it again? It don't matter I cannot reach you with my fingertips right now since, well, I can still feel you with the tip of my tongue. Filthy, lustful, I know. But honest. Cause I am soap bubbles. Reflecting the Sun. Bouncing in the wind. Floating towards you, my bear, my blood, my passion, my muse.

Ceremony

 How can love be this crippling? All I think is you. God. I can sleep proper, but at what cost? All I want to do is sleep, perhaps eat something not to starve, play a game or two of chess, listen to ceremony, and barely that. Cause it do not matter what else I do, it is done without the slightest of attention. Carefully, but automatically.  I been blessed by you, showered by your stars. I feel you jumpstarting my heart when I falter, oh God. Do you feel my outstretched arms reaching for you in love?

Mahalia sang about this once, so passionately, so this text is a futile example to say the same. I will come out of my house later, to the benches in the tiny park near my house, with Kierkegaard in one hand and a tumbler full of coffee in the other. I will talk to the lonely man who is sometimes there and ask them to break bread with me. I will ask them what is the last thing they think before they fall asleep. I will ask what they plan on eating that day too. I will say 'Good afternoon' and walk away after while, until I know not where I am, drenched in sweat, and turn back, looking for a chapel where I can lose myself in you. Cause there I am what I am. Cause there no one will judge me. Cause there You might teach me a thing or two.

How can love be this crippling... I take my black guitar and play nothing in particular, barely brushing the strings, humming notes of desperation, hoping you can hear my serenade.

 Still do I feel you in the tip of my tongue