Sunday, November 21, 2004

the mexican cabdriver's poem for his wife, who has left him

We were sitting in traffic
on the Brooklyn Bridge,
so I asked the poets
in the backseat of my cab
to write a poem for you.

They asked
if you are like the moon
or the trees.

I said no,
she is like the bridge
when there is so much traffic
I have time
to watch the boats
on the river.

by martin espada

30+ pages or research due tuesday, plus a short film and some physics. i'm livingoff tea and honey, super sugared donuts, string beans and mushrooms, cheeseboard pizza, and stacks and stacks of new books (martin espadas and stolen murakami books.) my lomograph is neglected.