Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

It’s not the First Time I Wear a Cummerbund I am the glow of a fixed star, the timeless echo of a plea that always returns. You seduce my rest, and climb my geography. Does the mirror fade like a refined emotion in your hands? Don’t answer, I need your silence to be wild. The sun shatters into rainbows. It makes me sweat. I lie near a turtle on the floor of a botanical garden hoping the stillness that dwells in my imagination - the crossdresser singing boleros to the stars- calms down and erases my fear of being marginalized. Not all silences are the same, there is no such thing as a perfect stranger. Not one is as perfect as his shadow. In the lake of Close Indifference, where the bed creaks like a bag full of rain, we were all size 30 once.

The Clear Dampness of your Face Are you willing to fill my white spaces?  Can we conspire, can you force me  to exhale my infinite hunger of you?  Must you radiate the thirst of my skin  through the endless latitudes, the nectars  of your sex? Am I losing my footing inside the ruins of this sinister hotel? When are you hiding these overcast words  and their meanings?  Who can ignore  the fear of men knee deep in the turbid  waters of an ocean guided by the intuition  of drowned colors? Ay, mi soledad,  riddling conundrum  for the absence  of figurative speech.