To S

¿Te acuerdas de la librería donde nos conocimos?

Aquí estoy,

Acabo de ver un libro de tu papá; 

aquí leíste también una de mis historias.

Quizás fingiste que te gustó. Maybe it was just a fuck.

Te enseñé los libros de Foster Wallace

Y hablamos de hiper-realidades por horas.

Some dude says I have PTSD...

But that's not your fault.

Your fault was meterte con una escritora.

You knew better,

You knew I would end up writing 'bout you.

Ahora un poema del puto Bukowski me hace llorar,

Porque habla de un perro,

De un perro atropellado,

Hurt puppies make me cry.

And I thought you were a hurt puppy,

And now I am the hurt puppy,

Because some dude didn't see me crossing the street.

I am looking out the same window we did that night,

When we met.

Yo te dije que esto era #hipstercentral,

And you thought I was funny, and intense,

Y caminamos por Santurce, 

Y hablamos.

God, you were so sexy,

Y me hablaste de Oxford commas,

And I knew you'd make me come.

I was right,

I wish I didn't give a fuck.

(June 2017)