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letra de alandaluz. - coin locker kid

i turn my eyes
all black again
stars l!ck the shore. taste buds in sand
and thru a widow’s shattered window there stands
an open doorway
opened to me
soft, hardly formed
revealed gracefully by a mirror shard
peeling the sea back

the chestnut faces of kids digging graves
surfboard tombstones thwart the tidal waves’
claim of rock formations, as
strange crustaceans swan-dive down my throat
the dawn
brings me to
their arms

palled purples, dirty fishes
turtle sh-lls all along the esplanade
ragdoll beauty queens
sing a song of yourselves to me

—
i come round to mushed plantains and pigskin husks
and bloodstains on my sheets
dead crops of sugarcanes
our lady of sorrows on the alter, made of plastic
plead forgiveness for the trains
making emptier streets. that breathe in dust and smell
of sweets. the wh0res of night did not give way to this morning
just so you can grab my ears because of overcooked tortillas
and the passing of your years
i didn’t make you a lonely old witch: god did
so maybe charge him with the preparation of our eggs and potatoes
if you’re gonna be sore about it
i know… i’m so mean
my heart’s so cold
my blood’s boiling like encebollado
i know that you just want me to be a proper lady tomorrow
and you see yourself in me
and smooth white hands that were always meant to be
wading thru a salt marsh. planting the seedling of a tree with
a black-faced capuchin monkey
holding the handle of a cup of coffee
scolding a man who just will not get off me
slicing a mango for a batch of babies
all to raise the day

—
little people dressed in uniform are going walking as the windows open every home’s a maker making lots of gossip every woman’s talking every man’s a taker taking lots of glances as i go to dance with a little girl i meet who’s selling candy jalapeno lollies gee they make me happy she says it’s her duty to support her family and that it’s everyone’s
everyone should eat together if it’s ever possible and everyone that walks along the street should help to keep it clean, even business owners, but instead they’re yelling
stop soliciting! tourists make the city better!
n0body wants to see a rat when they’re trying to enjoy the weather!
my, the anchor of capital’s like a cord that i can’t sever
wax candles for the lord? anyone will do, i’ll take whatever
as a broken bottle pierces
the belly of quetzalcoatl’s slithering body
i try not to worry ‘cuz
what’s the use of being in a hurry? buses are only a dime
though everyone here wants an automobile to drive off of a cliff
and turn into a real human that gets their way
the wind blows round paper mache like tumbleweeds in a forgotten western movie where a man walks into town and draws the biggest loudest gun… duel in the sun
fueling a two-ton mule etched in metal and glass, hogging the road, heading the motorcade and
shilling for ecotourists and airconditioning the tour bus
every minute gathers more dust in rundown clinics
under construction forever
so we prune the bushes. sure there’s room to look
but no touching
well i guess it doesn’t mean much ‘cuz in town hall we’re mostly discussing
t-shirts and designs for flags
so i keep all my trash to make
upcycled hand-bags oooooh
we need them but they don’t need us; thus
elected officials’ bulldozers
force our soccer field to lay down
as film projectors drown out the sound of people
little darlings
flesh and blood brown people
estrellita esmeraldena

maybe it doesn’t mean much
i kinda feel i haven’t seen much
of all that’s been and didn’t need me
before i shaved my legs and got greedy
for what i lacked in understanding
of what i never could have

—
lost in the aftermath
the dusk of our community’s transparent indecision
manifests a trumpeter who aims his musket with precision
at my face
and every passing second fills a basket of infatuation
loosely tucked beneath my skirt in case an overwhelming sense
of my displacement
robs the grace from my intentions and i trip over a shoelace
carelessly undone
as i struggle to embrace the sticky
feeling dripping from an ecolodge’s ceiling
nursing every wound in secret hideaways
down hidden paths in nature conservations
on my back i see the smallest hummingbird
but not its wings

and i give up

i drown in history
and i find myself here too
and it all comes back round and it all comes back round
as an ocean, so the hard, dry ground
but i know you ride the backs of my tides
so teach me how
and i’ll try

—
the white in my eyes
grows until
i realize, through sheer force of will
that in a child’s
fading smile
there’s still a place to be born
born into me
wholly transformed
and audaciously letting go
to fall
into the sea’s back

- coin locker kid

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