to return to nostalgia and the idea of possibility.

The reception man at Motel Niantic was actually two. Two pint-sized men that, when stacked on top of each other, could form a fully sized man. I imagined tetris men as they stood side by side. The one on the left was mute and ever-nodding, agreeing enthusiastically to comments whispered to himself. The man on the right had skin so full of hair dark fuzz it looks like a pelt, a beaver pelt because he also had large yellow teeth like pozole corn kernels.

Beaverman told us our room had a balcony and he winked, like my lover and I were going to go do it on that balcony. We didn’t. From the balcony we saw the pool, gray with a fat child whinnying, splashing.

Screen Shot 2014-10-21 at 10.44.44 PMthat is from when i used to be really into lomography. i have to fish out my camera and try some more. this is me nowScreen Shot 2014-10-21 at 10.49.14 PM my toes still move that way, like french fries with minds of their own, or jelly fish tentacles that don’t know how to sting yet. Screen Shot 2014-10-21 at 10.41.47 PM my maternal abuela, wearing a clean white dress and clean white shoes in front of a dusty farm house. i imagine it has painted blue shutters. in galicia, they paint shutters and doors blue, green, red, leftover paint from the fishing boats. inside the house there is a bowl of fruit and cheese awaiting her, a pack of cigarettes. is that too expected? i’m probably wrong. what i do know is that there is no fridge in there, and no almond butter, no hemp milk, avocados, or cashews.  but there are eggs, and the yolks are sun orange.

 

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One Response to “”

  1. mdonapetry Says:

    Mamá no fumaba entonces. Pero tienes razón, su postura ya anuncia que algún día tendría un cigarrillo entre los dedos….

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