Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

I will forget  these bent enigmas, these rectilinear watches of hope, this alien body in the flame of sandalwood

Inch by inch Skin, hair, tenderness— my love is touching you. You are no longer an imaginary happiness, now you are my permanent bliss, the open air where I lose to win. You say, count to ten and find me, and I start looking for you. I ask, are you there, and you come out of your hideout laughing, with yourself  in the background, wrapped in a new scent, a different nakedness.