J... to Jamille Alin Cucci

It should start with the ocean

and the sky

and the sky is maybe where it should start

starts are difficult 

ending worse

then I think of her, naturally

our start

making my way down the pedestrian walkway towards the wharf overlooking 

the Pacific shores

when suddenly the immense neon light of the hotel sign catches my attention

one last letter working

dangling

remnant of better days 

lit blue

ushering me along, curious now

eager   

J

one story tall

J

I stare and stare

J

then cross the avenue and sit at the outdoor bar

right under the diffused blue light  

faint halo still in the advancing darkness 

Shaken, as if suddenly caught up by the past

Red-handed

Yesterday’s morning past

Past barely past

We fear what the heart desires

I tell the street vendor now peddling his wares closer to my table

the street urchins eyeing my camera while pretending to play soccer

the cruising matron my wallet 

the waiter my empty drink

the parked cabbie my map 

suddenly aware that

in the eye of the eye of the gyrating world we all hang onto till we no longer can

get flicked off its surface  

the time is 6:15 p.m.

the day Thursday

the date May 9th

the year 2013

All that plus I am fifty years old

fifty and in love

how improbable, I smile, how so improbable 

ordering yet another pisco sour

We fail at love because we keep an eye on… 

On what, I think, on what, unable to complete the thought

distracted by the kite surfers gliding in the distance

riding the thermals off the cliffs they jumped from in their shiny outfits 

and gaviota

is

seagull

is 

mouette

is

gabbiano

is

shakhaf

different names for the same birds teaching the outfits a thing or two in the early dusk

Fifty, what a thing

Then you come forth

J

reinventing the world

the laugh

the kiss

the moan

the night

the sleep

and the silence 

whole swath of it miraculously leading to us again and again

round and round 

days and nights

finally together

together at last

J

We fail at love because… 

I am not sure

Yet thinking of Heraclitus 

What the heart desires, it purchases at the cost of the soul

Could be

I don’t know

Sticking to what I know then 

the time of day 

the date 

the year 

my age

J

also that the Shabbat is a mere stone’s throw away

Despues de la lluvia, according to the evening press

And the ocean is just what its name indicates today, pacific

And Dios es amor reads the brass plate of the statue in the square across my room 

Okay

And in the beginning was the word says the Good Book

I am not sure

I don’t know

In the beginnings was love, rather

and J es amor 

of that 

I am sure

I know

and that’s all and everything for this evening

Miraflores, Lima, Peru, May 2013 / Surgarloaf, Florida, November 2014