Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Antonio’s Rape He grew old covered by the  caña  leaves under the hammock bridge in his home town.  A leaf storm alerted a neighbor who called the police, who called his grandmother, who refused to walk that Via Crusi and sent her only daughter strong enough to deal with  la hojarasca .  Twenty cents and the weight of the man’s body sucked his breath out. His shorts were down to his knees, ass still sticky, memories gone. - It's been a week since Miguel's been fixing to poach around here. - You be careful with that man, you hear. Do not get near him. - Why auntie? Who is he? What's he look like? - Fuck, you don't get near him because I say so. - Don't ask a fucking thing you little brat. Why is this happening? - Look at the way you dress him. He looks like a god-damn sissy. - Do not leave him alone in the house. - Yeah, who the hell is going to be watching here, you? All of us work. - Look hear you little bastard, if I have to give   your mother any bad news I

Well, the problem is theoretically solved.  Yesterday I talked to my psychiatrist and we decided on how it is that I need to medicate myself before I go into a hospital.  He also suggested it is time for me to make arrangements to leave Puerto Rico, something I have been wanting to do for a long time now.  He says a move within the next two years will be a smart move.  So I need to start looking for a community where I might have access to good benefits as an elderly person.  A good health plan and living arrangement.  I am already trying to save for this possibility.  Things are going to get pretty bad in Puerto Rico and it is going to take a long time before they get any better.  So to all my dear friends in all those artistic communities.  I am letting you know I am on my way back to the mainland.  It might take another year or so but the return is inevitable. Sergio 

Paraguas de cola erecta y rótulos en cavidades erógenas exigen cerrojos de ébano y marfil, postre de códigos: alcachofas que nos esperan al borde del abismo sicalíptico banquete de relojes donde ha de medirse todo, los centímetros, el espesor la agudeza de gritos, la trans- piración, los suspiro, el mela-o que se corre por mis mejillas al  decir: lo quiero adentro completitito .