Poetry Contribution: iMessage
By I. Regalado
“you have to peel it off,
strip to the bone,
i want to see you naked”
you said, “in your dreams”
I said, “sure, but even my dreams wouldn’t oblige”
You were walking around with a pink umbrella,
And it wasn’t even raining.
I pictured in my head thousands of black umbrellas,
and, one of them was pink,
underneath, one of them was you,
walking the cobbled streets,
like something from a film by Kurosawa,
or a photoshopped photograph,
the sound of Nolita Fairytale playing
in the background
(or was that a film that I have not seen?)
I said, “I’m amazed at the randomness of our conversation.
I feel some kind of fever coming.
I have to fight it.”
“It’s a song,” you said
then you pointed to the wooden balcony.
“Do you see it?
Do you see us?” I asked.
“I see you, us,” you answered.
Meanwhile, our hands held each other,
Our eyes stared at each other,
Nothing to hide here,
“Me siento mejor,” la Niña sang through my iPhone,
Yes I feel better, ya me siento mejor.
Now I feel better.
“Quiero quitarte la ropa!”
“Si yo pudieras mover la manilla del reloj del tiempo”
There is a scent here with me
That isn’t mine.
(I’ve walked that street with you before,
Everyone should be jealous.)
“Scent?” you asked.
“Yes, it’s a woman’s scent,
But it’s gone now.” Then my mind added,
“Was it you?”
Contributed by I. Regalado