This poem, a favorite of Galatea, is the writer Cristina Peri Rossi of his latest book, "Hotel Room"
unrequited love
When the two o'clock I call you by phone
desperately to tell you that would love to die,
hate that as a cuckoo clock
give me time,
ask me if I've taken the sleeping pill,
if I went to the doctor, if
I finally delivered the newspaper article, if I dined
low in cholesterol.
If I had done all that nonsense
would be equally dissatisfied.
plus ...
not be considered uncommon,
in the little life you have left,
someone calls you at two o'clock
to say I would love to die, because at fifty
no
feel like making love to death,
(normal things rather die of cancer tumors
as stroke).
At fifty no one is romantic,
everyone has accepted failure, mortgage, vulgar
marriage, gay or straight, it does not matter
. Just some crazy
lost at sea in a boat
lonely
write books just some crazy, crazy
only get drunk some alcohol inside, just some crazy
call at two in the morning to say would make
love to death ...
and condoms.
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