sandra cisneros

Why I Didn’t

Of course.
I was going to, you know.
Or maybe you didn’t.

Already my mouth gone soft
when you kissed me good night
and let me go.

But instead of love
there was only an old sleeping bag
you tossed at me and three
flea bites on my belly
the next morning.
You didn’t know that,
did you?

I didn’t think so.

Nor your name I stole
and took with me
all the way from San Antonio
to Puerto Escondido.

And today when I waited
for your pickup to appear,
I’ll be right back, and left me there
on your porch full of suitcases and
crates and saws and cedar,

I went into your room
and lay down on your bed
just to see if it’d suit me.
The sheets were cool
and a fine talc of dust lay everywhere
the way some men who live alone
are used to living.

Oh I’m scared all right
Haven’t you noticed, I’m
only shy when I like a man.
And to tell the truth
I’m not sure love is worth
the risk of losing friendship.

It would’ve been easy.
I could’ve claimed
I was afraid of the dark.
I am, you know. Afraid I mean.

But there was that plane
to catch the next morning.
And you had to go to work.

Besides, I was sleepy.
And love, that fish too old to get away,
will be there the next morning. And if not,
there are other mornings, other fish.

-Sandra Cisneros

Oh love you’re so crazy…

-Cara

Advertisements