Fijanse, you know este cuento. It might have varied momentos, but it’s corazon you know. Maybe it goes down like this. You are hanging with un amigo, in a cantina lleno de happy, and you both are drinking your third cerveza or tiro de vino or whatever you like. It’s not tarde at all. And the night is full of posibidades, because you are young and have pockets full of cambio para gastar. Then she walks in, your amigo’s former compañera with her new…what to call him?…chulo/date/novio/squeeze. The room is indifferent to el momento and remains happy. Pero something is compressing down fuerte on your friend because both of you see her wild historia walking into the cantina. It is never easy to avoid your destiny. And she does look como un dia en el campo, the shade, the sun and the breeze. And the crazy part is this. Does she see your friend? Usted? Do they come over and say hola? Does your friend go over and smile at a los dos? They grab sillas and ignore you and your friend. Which is one option of many. Both of you know this momento. A distraction to keep big time moving es necesario, no? Pero you know that an asteroid’s impact will not rescue you and your amigo. And two new faces are not going to appear and dance both of you into una noche of desires. Estan stuck. So you inhale your cerveza to extinguish the frozen pond in your gut and order dos mas. Because at this point, it is all about fuerza. Who would you be? A Super-hero or a rock star? You ask because you know the power of imagination. Too general he responds. Spiderman or Jimi Hendrix? Across the cantina they are holding left hands. Silver Surfer or Jim Morrison? Two times the cervezas arrive con limón. The Human Torch or Ricardo Valens? They stretch across the table, invisible walls keeping their special things from falling. Batman or Prince? You’re joking, que no? The Cure’s “Love Song” flows from the speakers. All of your rock star choices are dead, he suggests. Es verdad but the superheroes never existed tambien. If you could see back in time and recall the details of what you danced to esa noche you got lost in desire, would it matter now? And those nights when you read Silver Surfer comic books instead of Camus, did it change meaning? Because isn’t the Silver Surfer really Sisyphus, Buscando y buscando an escape until he falls in, embraces the task of loving and not being loved in return? 

 

 

 

Sometimes on weekend mornings Christopher Rubio-Goldsmith will go for a long bike ride or watch soccer on the Spanish television station. His work has appeared in Sky Island Journal, Drunk Monkeys, and in 2022 he was nominated for a Pushcart. His wife Kelly occasionally mentions that the poem isn’t right.