Instrumentally Speaking NY April, 2010
By the window I lean back
and embrace myself
let the world digest me
listening to it.
there's a concert outside.
Arpeggio footsteps
flow like a guitar
car alarm choruses fade
and bounce back
Voices fill the air with chaotic melody
lifting me
floating to the edge of the splendid
brick gradient
multiple fronts mysterious facades
each window speaking anonymous histories
Cars whip by blasting verses that,
wane in the mist.
crowds in step, clouds of breath
click together like spanish castinettes
layers upon layers in a ghetto symphony...
car doors slam shut
like rhythmic thuds
that interrupt like a pause
slam again and push play
Smells like sancocho
raising the spirit and lifting me back
to the center.
Guiding me back
like the missing father figure. 'CION TIO...
I hear Julio Iglesias
and Ruben Blades.
bachata cuts through screamin "MATA ME"....
Now the sky liftin me up
back into the window
where I sit embraced in my own cocoon
with my ears ringing
from this BRONX instrumental.
