Truth (1)
is you
you telling me of your late mother
also
the morning dew on your tangerine tree
also
your bleeding once a month
also
us
multiplying the avenues leading to
us
also
lamb chops with fava beans
salteñas and chicha on the fly
as well as
hot coffee at dawn
chilled water at noon
tempered wine at night
----------
truth is
what truth
there is no truth
only stories we make up
late at night
alone
when the wine is gone
its tempering a memory
make up
before passing them on
to others
anyone
someone
eventually
embellished along the way
as we must
for good measure
enlarged
a different spin
locale
decade
whatnot
before being passed on
quick turn of phrase
melted in faster still
relinquished at last
when the time comes
as it does
once the need is gone
as it will
thus letting go of the chimerical prospect
the hope and promise
they once held
----------
truth is the cracked opened window of the hostel
from where I am watching packs of feral dogs roaming up and down main street
growling
hot on the heels of a late straggler
drunk
past midnight
watching
the mangled cat shadowing the gutter in slow motion
whiskers to the ground
watching
the lost and the poor
luckless peones
campesinos with no luck to start with
miners with no mines left to mine
whispering
the wretched and the illuminated
now congregating under the sole bulb of a street lamp
huddled together close against the bitter cold wind of the open sierras
wounded animal howling
flask of rotgut going back and forth
suddenly asking where I am from
once spotted at the window
eavesdropping
the toothless Indian man with the copper face flashing a grin and holding forth then
imploring the gringo not to judge
adding that no one
absolutamente nadie
is the owner of his own instincts
but controlling them
si senor,
trying to, laughs another
stammering now
controlling them, that is civilization
entiendes
so says the Talmud
verdad, Frenchie
verdad
I nod and wave goodbye, close the windowpanes, draw the curtain
sitting down at the edge of the bed for the longest time
staring at my hands for longer than I can possibly understand
---------
truth is
neuroscience telling us the mind is nothing but electricity coursing through the brain
some truth
running its course
igniting sparks along the way
instant fires of the mind
minute particles
making us do things
like falling in love, Jac
like loving you
Uyuni, Bolivia, May 2013