Julian Caballero

Archive for May, 2010|Monthly archive page

Espejo

In Uncategorized on May 9, 2010 at 10:49 pm

My anatomy professor told me in class

that we humans don’t want to know ourselves.

Bullshit! I have read Shakespeare

“To thine ownself be true”,

I know myself so well

I am practically a narcissist.

I once had a picture of myself as my screen saver

and when someone made fun of me, I told them it was Art.

After class I was walking down the street

with the woman of my dreams,

The kind of dream that you fight against

The kind of dream with beautiful eyes

The kind of dream that you surrender to

when I saw a 500 pound woman on her smoke break.

I told my love that I wanted to slap that woman in the face.

My love, annoyed and offended, asked me to explain…

I said,

“When I was a kid, my grandmother died

Bill the drunk brought us our mail that day,

expecting a token of appreciation.

My father slapped him verbally like a child,

a 60 year old child.

Told him he was wasting a precious thing.

Bill the drunk just hung his head,

My stomach was in knots.

Years later my dad told the story of his mother’s death.

It was the first time I heard the story

he said my grandmother had cancer

at the end she was breathing through a tube

or maybe the tube was breathing through her

my father and uncle were with her

She said she had had enough

She looked at my father with a fragile glance

and said, “a las uno, a las dose…”

and pulled the tube out

she never got to three.

Bill the drunk died 15 years later

his liver did what he never could,

it both lived and died;

his body was found by a stranger.

A stranger found by a stranger.

My love then explained something to me…

She said, My father suggested I learn to play the cello

and when I asked him why he said, ‘Because it will deepen you’.

Then she looked at me with her eyes of pure grace, like clouds floating in a

hemisphere of brilliance, and she vividly communicated to me the pain of a

deepening person. I dropped my gaze ashamed, as if it were a scalpel.

Too deep perhaps

Too reckless

Too real

Two plus Two is too much sometimes.

Maybe the professor was right we don’t want to know ourselves,

But as desperately as I try to hide behind

my indignation of the world

and the beauty of my love,

She is my Mirror, Mirror on the wall

And She is the fairest of them all.

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