SUPER GLORY DRAGON HAZE

I am riding high

at 10:30 on a Friday night

“Have a puff, it’s the Super Glory Dragon Haze”

he said

and I had the whole thing, and here I am

in an unspeakable excitement

riding and thinking of 

poetry

riding and thinking of 

Dorothy Parker

and my difficulty to write 

about happy women

it’s spring and it is 3 degrees 

the Dutchies are out 

the Greeks are out 

that one junky I bump into 

everyday

is also out 

everyone in ecstasy 

for the celebrational Friday 

and their ability to ignore 

well dressed women 

and their blue legs 

that stand proud 

against the rain and humidity 

of this shitty town 

The ATMs are full

the money comes out

the money comes in 

I keep riding high 

and I am thinking of new poems

while stressing for knowing that

when I will finally get that pen and paper

all the ideas will be gone 

But what matters is that high moment

of discovery and inspiration

and that almost stimulating feeling 

knowing that no one around me 

is thinking of 

poetry

MIDDLE OF SPRING

I sit by the street 

glass of white wine

rolled cigarette 

on my lips

I pull the cigarette away

the skin gets ripped 

while the young girls

pass by

with sun on the thighs

and the floral dresses

and the bling

and dripped eyeliner

at 3 pm

oh how they walk

pushing the shoulders back

sticking the breasts out

-independent breasts-

they do what they want

and I am drinking

and smoking

some bossa nova 

is playing in my ears

and I remember

that old latin lover

that broke my heart 

and I choke him 

in cachaca 

and smile

the girls keep passing by 

riding bikes

riding scooters

riding men

riding past lives

how difficult it is

to write without pain

how difficult it is 

to write with sun

and your bank account 

with a new payment inside

how difficult it is 

to be a happy writer

and still write

A HINT OF MINT

Wound that stretches in tune with a trumpet 

that scratches the second face 

I have hidden on my sleeve.

A cat curious as me at night

while I look at strangers 

that could potentially 

Be friends. 

A small little fish 

that forgets its existence

swimming around a sea of 0,5 square meters

just like me and just like the cat

-trapped, forgetful and curious.

I have all the seasons in my room 

my insides are blossoming 

and my breath like rain

is splashing on the floor.

I am the kind of woman 

that leaves some food on the table

before you come home.

I have a different power inside me.

I am a woman,

and I blossom... 

and I blossom...

My eyes speak truth and my lips 

give birth to words that burn

my lovers down to the filter.

And for the first time tonight I prayed,

for I have name Her 

The Mother

and she is all I want to be.