Windshield wipers exert their best
Holding out hope past the dusk,
Rigid steering holds course
 the wills wield the wheels grounding club
Rolling ambitions for the floor,
Where the choice be the bar at the roof
Topped by soft respite in the callous breeze
Carrying amber notes through the concrete roots
Reverberating Bass burgeon OOo000s
That vertically engulf & hula hoop
 the shimmering shoulders and vivacious hips
Tiki-taki swaying like island trees
Dance fevers pitch escalates
Sweat beads on fabrics
Fresh salt wicking away
Melanin illuminated
The temperature is simmering 
Over on the glass stove
A row of potent remedies
The handles elaborate
A hand Strone from the emptiness
Demanding attention
Between awaiting patrons
with a card and a smirk
Asserting on the amicable ambience
Ordering a drink for two,
One un-be-knowingly glassed,
for you
purveyor of the parched
The bar is wet
The potion slides to your grip
But was it water or slime on which it slid?
And do you have the first sip?
Wink, enjoy, groove to the payee’s insistent patronage
Question the abrupt thoughts of an empty stomach
Elbow pardon your way to the water closet (W.C.)
Hold your head,
Wonder if the last one
Was tainted with finagled intents?
 

A reach at a red-thighed mirage
Amazonian-kissed epidermis
White linen ready vestiges
That daintily wave
To indicate
A mutual struggle
A similar closeness to surrender
A fellow desert traveler
A potentially trustworthy partner
To confide in the quest to quench
the parched caricature
of genuine connection
Yet the unfiltered blue light of the daytime commute
The locomotive norms, mores and folk ways of
Minding your own business,
playing it cool,
Respecting the bodies of strangers
Have cast away the ring, middle and index
fingers
Leaving the hands up in arms
With only
pinky and thumb
To reach for an amends 🤙🏾🤙🏾

Be to your partner what a nose ring is to their face
Confidently displaying what confidence your partner brings
More than an ornament too an already bejeweled lace
More than a statement piece
More than a metal thing
Be a shiny statement of stylized rebellion without the trend
A matching set of matte memos that tell the world
The self work
Was already in motion
the outward love
is already in play


Radical discourse of knots doing desperate living
Tales foreshadowing flaming moths to our loving ropes
Slowly warping the warm plates of this dé-sa-yu-no
Threatening to blow each sprinkle off our buttered toasts*
And if they do
Then I can guarantee
That on lonches twice
every other week
Will be
Tres Gul-pes Jévy (Heavy)
w. pickled onions on every plate
not only will they hit the spot
but give us the strength we need
As now I am in-transit
Indebted
without enough to properly veil those lovely bones
but just enough for that which matters
In the now
whether roof, food or phone
To which your response would be justified
Should you lose your patient form
and skip the queue
golden pheasant
Cleverly zipping a line
from the edge of our present scene
to the end of a Styrofoam cup
hoping that in 5 years forward
you con las canas (Ka-nas)
will pick up
And in the foreground hopefully
Me with the laughter
If not
Then making sounds in the background
In the voicemail recordings
of our shared lives
 
Nothing wrong to want to know if we can valse
even when we Kizomba, or Zouk
To pivot on the ball of your foot
instead of your toes
To seek a secure tile on an uneven floor
A step in a sequence of clandestine breathes
before the bigger essay is voiced
To start over or refresh
A lucid decision to forgo a vivid dream
or double down on a mutual belief, a shared hope

Notes:
*Referring to Hagelslag (NL), the Dutch breakfast treat
Desayuno (Esp):  Breakfast
Lonches (loan-chez) (Esp.): Lunches
Tres Gulpes (Goal-pes) (Esp.) = (literally) 3 hits: Here referring to the Dominican Dish
Jévy (Do.): Substantive, cool
Canas (Esp) = white/grey/silver hair
Valse (Fr): Waltz