Streets

The journey of a brief period of time showed me passages of life and passions.
It was a sense of caring and carrying on as usual.
There was affection veiled in the masks of carnevale and phantoms of the like.
Phantoms that come as paupers reeling our destruction.
The product of our time, be it now or yesterday in search of the ethereal sushi bar.
To ride the moon, to be at the pinnacle of it all.
Tell me all the lies.
Tell me about the honey and the caviar.
Tell me about its addiction.
Tell me of its bonded slave.
Tell me of the prince of darkness.
Tell me I know it exasperated Lorca.
I know it brought Julia to death, stranded in the bedlam of the streets.
You’ve had it all. You’ve seen it all.
Tell me why the allure, why the destruction?
Deal your cards as you wish, play your dirty hand.
Play to win.
Play to play a game.
Between what cracks will I fall?
Between what cracks shall we fall?
Hooray for the many splendors.
Hooray for your blood.
Hooray because it’s you who remains strong.

Copyright © 1991 Griselle Paz Davis—Velvet Memoirs. Written 1985-1991 submitted to Library of Congress Under Hilda Latorre

Posted: April 2, 2012 at 2:19 am