lima, peru

tourists have crowded into the half-dark of the enormous romanesque church.
vault opening behind vault and no perspective.
a few candle flames flickered.

–

–

|37|
a grey city for grey feelings.

–

–

|38|
instead of finding the lavandería
we find pirated copies of “buscando a dory”
which implies we were only ever searching for her, anyway.

–

–

an angel whose face i couldn’t see embraced me
and his whisper went all through my body:

–

–

don’t be ashamed to be a human being—be proud!
inside you one vault after another opens endlessly.
you’ll never be complete, and that’s as it should be.

–

–

|39|
i hope the next shot of pisco is stronger.

–

–

|40|
you and i feel the
strangest together in months,
stirring in the middle of the night
rolling over with a sigh

crying, is this what it becomes
after all of it, eventually?

realizing we are children in a sandbox in a hurricane,
sharing toys –
a two-person support group that heals
with pizza and dwayne johnson blockbusters.

–

–

tears blinded me
as we were herded out into the fiercely sunlit piazza,
together with mr and mrs jones, herr tanaka and signora sabatini –

within each of them vault after vault opened endlessly.

–

–

|41|
i photograph cats in the park all day
grey, deflated.

–

–

credit: romanesque arches by tomas transtromer