Wednesday, April 1, 2009

fools and poets

Happy April. I don't want to be a fool today or any other day. Speaking of tricks I was thinking about the best trick I ever played on anyone.

I was in Cuba, in the town of Trinidad is the south with a few Cuban friends. Trinidad reminded me of any Spanish colonized city, cobblestoned streets, arcades, buildings that opened up to courtyards with fountains. It was a warm night and we were chatting in Spanish, joking around. A band played in the town center and we watched the salsa dancers, impressed. As we were walking a tall, sunburnt white man grabbed my arm and said with a very bad accent

Que bonita eres. How pretty you are. I know this guy, we all know this guy. He is a player, not only at home but especially abroad. In poorer countries he is a pimp. He is possibly a ticket out and knows it and can have any pretty young thing looking for an escape, marriage is on her mind and we know what is on his. I decided to play, kitty got herself a mouse.

Oh, I say in Spanish, thank you, you're so sweet.

I'm John, from California, I'm very rich, I live in Carmel, you know Carmel? He continued in crap Spanish.

No, what is Carmel? I play the fool, it is what he wants anyway. My Cuban friends are bewildered, they really don't know what's going on.

Oh it is a town where rich people live, like Clint Eastwood. He is all over this shit, invading my personal space with his stink of rum.

Oooooh. Inside I'm seething, but like the serpent, I know when to be still and when to strike.

You would love it, the beach is beautiful. I have a boat and many car. He might even be believing his own fairytale, his eyes are starry thinking about the alleged Cuban mama on his boat.

Carmel? I ask again in Spanish.

Si, Carmel. He is practically on top of me. I see my make Cuban friends are losing their patience while the female is giggling.

Isn't there a famous artist that paints Carmel? Thomas Kincade? I'm still speaking in Spanish and I see he is thrown. How the hell would a Cuban woman know about Thomas Kincade?

Errr, si. Thomas Kincade paints Carmel. How do you know Thomas Kincade? He is honestly confused. The game is about to be up.

I switch to English. Because I'm from California and I can't stand his work. I think he is trite. There are so many better artists in our state that deserve recognition, don't you think?

I've never seen anyone so sunburnt turn so red. He backed away from me and tried to laugh nervously but he is mortified.

Your game sucks but it was entertaining! I was laughing, in retrospect maybe it was mean but whatever. As we leave I call back Good luck in Cuba!

Can I call you when I'm back in California? Even post-revelation he was still trying to be a player.

I didn't even answer.

Dile Que Por Mi No Tema
Celia Cruz

ALSO! It is National Poetry Month and I am going to try to write a Poem a Day with a million other poets. Today's prompt is: For today's prompt, I want you to write an origin poem. It can be the origin of a word, person, plant, idea, etc I will get on that and try to post it later

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