1 The Bread Man of Miraflores [In Lima, Peru] I'm learning the sound of the bread man's horn when he squeezes it with his right hand, it sounds like a sick mule; small it is, and weak in sound, but it has its tongue, like a lizard it reaches the ear nonetheless. More kid than man I should say he is. If he could only put a motor on that old bike of his, old rusted black framed bike, with a basked attached in front; with two front wheels holding a black metal frame that holds the white wooded bread box of bread in place (a box with windows for all to look in, and see those little puppies just waiting to be bought); if only he had a motor on it, he'd make some time, a faster pace that is around the neighborhood; but then of course, it would be more overhead, and those little potato like loafs of bread [those puppies] would no longer be cheap. In any case, should he lean too far either way (considering the weight of the box and basket), right or left, I fear it would all end up on the street, an early career"indeed . I shall pray he buys a new model before it is too late, before that is, before he is too old to keep that old bike balanced: in place. Woops, somebody", my neighbor waved him over, I think Jenny, she wants a few of those puppies, she can see through those porthole windows (likened to a ships), in the white box... in the damp air he shifts and shovels away several loafs, catches a few of those puppies under a ton of others, he's picking out the big ones I think. He likes Jenny perhaps. I'll have to remember this, in case my wife buys some from Him; it's who you know in this town, that works. And it is wise to keep good tidings with the bread man. Now he's leaving the scene, as I'm looking out my second story window. Time to take my shower; it's 8:00 AM. Looks like it's going to be a good day in Lima, Peru. #1284 3/10/06 Morning in Lima, Peru; dedicated to my wife Rosa, she had asked me when I was spying out the window, "Are you thinking of a poem?" which I wasn't at the time, until she said that, and so she was my inspiration for this poem. 2 Negrito, Little Negrito (San Juan Miraflores; Lima, Peru) Negrito, and his son, little Negrito (and often with his wife) walk the streets, collect trash; not sure what they do with it: bike-wheel attached to a cart behind its back, up and down the streets of Miraflores they walk, sound a horn, let folks know they're coming, put trash scraps in their cart"move on. He is a simple man I see, plain, small, three children I have learned, a wife that cares. He, like me came out of a mother naked, and both of us will be naked when we return: the main difference, my mother was born in America, I suppose. Other than that, I don't know. All around him are brown people, he is black I am white. I hired him today, in the middle of the heat, he and his children to clean, to clean up the garbage behind our home. Gave him water and a coke, a hat for his child, a towel, and twenty-soles. He said he didn't need it, the towel, he was black already: looking at his dirt covered hands. He will come back Monday, this prideful man, a man of God, to sweat some more, to make a few more dollars: cut the branches off our tree, it is almost hanging over our doorframe. There is no black silo inside of him; he is pure man, with a shadow, lean, like so many in Peru, just trying to make a living. #1282 3/18/06 Prose Poetry. Negrito, of Miraflores, so he is known, his real name is Mark, not sure if he knows he is called Negrito, but no one seems to hide the nick name, yet, he is called Mark to his face. He seems pleasant enough, and being black is not a bourdon to him, like it seems to be to so many in the United States; he seems to go along with God's calling, and does not give off that ore of: intolerance, as so many blacks in America do today. And so I thought this little sketch of a man I met once and will meet again, would be of interest to my readers. 3 Stars Before Dawn He wants to be a sea yet, he is but drop of water in one. He makes the crooked fence straight, yet he has learned to leave some alone (better left un-mended, lest he find himself scorned). He has leaned the hard way" you could say: yesterday's emotions are not today's. He is acting more nowadays instead of reacting; he has learned from Plato (Atlantis sank, and so can he). It has taken a lifetime to learn he has nothing to say" it's all been said before; That the stars will weave there own signs before dawn, and he will be gone....! #1278 3/13/06 1:00 AM, Lima, Peru. 4 San Juan de Miraflores (Lima, Peru) Beyond the thick windows Of my house (Casa) Brown children play across The street in the park By the church: play In the dirt...! A Christian parade"in the Evening goes up and down The streets, the neighborhood" Stopping at certain houses, Hoping to Christianize! There is dancing and drinking At the new Nightclub Up the road, by the Tram" Echoes of music 'til 2:00 AM Neon lights blinking" Laughter, love, religion" It is all here, all part of life In this one little corner of the world In San Juan de Miraflores, In the summer of 2006. #1276 3/12/2006 Note by the author: no one lives on the mountain looking down into the city, usually they live in the little corners of the city, looking up at the mountains, and so it is in Lima, Peru, all surrounded by mountains, and I, like all the others have my little corner in the city, looking up. 5 The Streets of Lima Peru It dawned on me today, my 9th time in this city This city with stretched out wings"Lima! It dawned on me in the busy traffic of Seven million or more" pieces of human flesh Cars and busses, footsteps, more streets Than rats, more rats than trees, more trees Than jobs for this city of smog, by the pacific: O don't get me wrong I love this city, of taxies And horns; churches all adorned, professional Beggars and robbers: this city with wings likened To the condor...! I got thinking in the taxi, leaning out the window, As the young man drove me to my casa [my home], Thinking of the carbon dioxide being shifted to and fro More cars than drivers it seems, in this city where Everyone is waiting for a miracle: to go to America, Become rich and famous, if only they knew: there are More rates in Miami, more streets and smog in New York; more robbers in Chicago, and more taxes In Minnesota; and nothing is slow, no time for the Family"if only they knew! #1281 3/17/2006. A note by the Author: don't get me wrong, it is to each man his duty to do the best he can in life, and going to America is not a bad dream, but one much count the cost, and I suppose coming to Peru, leaving America, where I have a home in each country, I have had to counted the cost, and at this point of my life I prefer Peru to be my home in America. There is a cost for living in Peru, I know that, and for the Peruvian, a cost for living in America. We need to count the cost I believe, and do what is best this certain crossroads of one's life. And I do not believe I am being negative about Peru or America, I am simply telling the truth according to facts and my feelings. So please do not judge me too harshly with this poem. 6 Shadows and Dreams He found my shadow somehow" dim as it may be... and tied it to my dreams; and every time I went to sleep, it somehow disappeared"within me. I slipped off one night, into my world a world of dreams and shadows (leaving all I owned behind) and sailed away"sailed off into and onto the seven seas.... There were those nights though: when I was torn" wanting to live my dreams, or simply leave them behind! But I always believed in due time.... Yes, in due time. Massive desires with headstrong wings, and claws that helped me leap: helped me hold"hold I say, hold on tight, O so tightly onto my dreams: thus, slowly my shadow untied my dreams, to live them: smashing and burning holes everywhere, as if they were autumn leaves, in the middle of winter. I am flying over my bed right now"in a dream, dreaming of a dream I had six years ago (and on the side, a new dream to boot)"but the difference between yesterday and today is: I am also living a past dream right now in full and tomorrow, I'll live this other one also!... All in living color...! #1285 3/19/2006 |
