I take sleep like a piece of cake,
with milk, with longing
but fat tuesday is gone and now begins the lean time --
my body has decided to give up those sweet minutes
happiness seems like everyone else's
but suffering is unique for each of us, no?
4 a.m. and, for all the santero's smoke and blessings,
I find your pet, indecision, has moved into the living room,
taking up the couch, bumping the arms of visitors, asking about the cloudy air
I misread you - is that why I search for you so much?
You, sleepy and sick. Each day carved neatly.
no prayer will bring you to me.
no promise enough but still I try:
I promise I will learn more about you if sleep next to me
I promise to be good
I promise to cook happiness into the home,
mix raisins into the picadillo - fried crisp bocaditos
handed warm in a cotton hand towel
the first bite always lets out some steam.