by Dr. Jesú Estrada
October 7, 2017
It’s odd, sitting in a coffee shop
Starbucks in Hyde Park full of
Beautiful black men
Families, Safe, Families: Kids learning to order tall hot chocolates, chocolate produced
from the hands of exploited children
And me without that former angst of incompleteness.
That longing for true, true, TRUE fantasy like-telenovela-love
of teenage wet dreams, bored.
But always there.
I am Mucho Mas Contenta, no es que este mas vieja.
No I am not a wise old cliché, aged and easier to process.
[And this goddamned fly keeps trying to make love to my left leg and
shit on it at the same time!]
[Let me drink my Venti fantasy of true happiness! You fly fucker.]
I pour myself deep, doing what I really was meant to be--
To do. In actual peace. There is no gap of infinite grief anymore for
Not chasing what never was, a false self, infused by gringo ads and
gringo TV shows from the 70’s.