Its midnight, and the evening has just started

I

It is midnight, and the evening has just started.

I am standing on the porch of Marcela’s house,

And looking out her window to a polished placa

Of shiny stone tiles Catalunyan.

The placa is bordered on one side

With a line of dark green trees,

Dancing in a cool autumn breeze.

And on three other sides stand adorned faces

Of pretty iron balconies and windows like mine.

It is midnight, and people walking on the side street

Look like they’ve just turned twenty,

Playing and wiggling and swiggling.

I witness this play live today.

And smile.

It started with hum of a song today, a song in my heart

When I went to meet those lovers of paradise in hay

Hands in hand, then kisses on the cheek

Beer dos grandes and three puffs of weed

Then we merry merrily walked around

Through stoned streets of El Born…

Snuffing a royal hookah Kashmiri,

Outside a shop sits this old bent lady.

Tonight, she’s reading fairy tales for free!

The more I drift apart,

The more I come back

To being myself.

So pray we may rise, and again fall.

So we may must see it all!

II

A small ball bounced round a small tree in the placa.

And there comes a cute little doggy

Bouncing more than the ball,

So much with life trying to fetch it.

Then I see a man, a very young man,

In the prime and peak of his generative years,

Swinging and posing quickly

For the next football pass to his doggy.

Doggy has a small stature, short legs

With a long flowy fur body, and dangling flappy ears.

He jumps around for the ball,

And his long and black silk swirls

With sudden gusts of the whispering breeze

Showing shades of snow white underneath.

He looks so beautiful,

So lively, so joyful, I could die.

He embodies all bloom

So fresh, so wild,

Mori ami more jai.

He has a white streak,

Through the middle of his forehead.

And he looks so more handsome with that!

His tail looks like a tight oblong ball

Of strewn wool, vibrating vigorously

When he waits impatiently for the long pass.

It looks funny. But being funny has its own joy.

So much so as being joyful has its own fun.

It is past midnight, and I witness. Smiling.

III

A woman appears then after.

She has short n black curly hair.

And I can say,

That she has spent almost all

Heavy years of her life, already.

Now she’s turned alive again,

The most she has ever been!

Her supple skin shining

In halogen white

From such a distance,

Refreshes me to my fingertips.

She exchanges a sweet glance

Dipped in a smile with the man,

Who has the ball tightly placed

Under his sneakered right foot.

Few words I hear them say,

So I know they are neighbors.

And then Doggy starts a wiggle-tail

So vehemently, feet jumping in the air

To greet this lady as excitingly as he could.

So the man and the woman played with Doggy,

Eyeing him, talking to him, teasing him with the ball.

Dekhi ami dekhe jai

Hathrey shatrey dube jai

Now slo-w-ly lost in me I be-come

In a rich velvet prussian sky

And I see, my eyes dripping in love, just being witness

To this heart melting moment in time!

So sublime! 

IV

Marcela asks,

Rito, are you here?

I wake, gather myself and turn.

And I see her grin,

In a way no one else

Must have never noticed.

In her grin she is, and you can never see.

You have to see her through her.

It is not something you will see

When you look at her,

Or talk to her,

Or make love to her.

You see it only when you look closer,

A lot closer; it comes from where she breathes.

Marcela, I want to breathe you,

When you breathe a li’l closer.

Marcela, I want to become you

As you become my mother.

As a quiet baby in her womb,

I try to match her grin in a way

And say, I’m just having fun!

The truth is,

At this very moment,

This very present moment,

I am feeling pure golden jovial joy.

I feel I am alive.

I feel I am living.

I feel I am life.