This poem arrived, by mistake, in a pile of entries to a Geist poetry contest.

The bells ring again

and the cars arrive,

day after day—same hour, different hour

What do I care!

‍

The bells ring again

and I am on the street and promenade,

not lost and not found

‍

The butterflies are alive and moving.

I move from one scent to another.

I am not lost and not found

‍

These young whippersnappers (los loquillos)

They have no memory!

They sniff and go crazy.

These young ones sometimes take my spot,

They are rude and have no stories

They have no nose!

‍

Once I was El Toro…

(she sees me

but there would be a fight

and no one wants that now)

I am not lost, yet not found

‍

The young butterflies practise flight

and grow strong.

They are moving…

‍

I will ask them to strap me on their backs

and I will ride the wind

‍

But…

I know I am too heavy and

I complain too much:

‍

“These straps are too tight”

“Too loose”

“The sun is too close, the moon too far away”

“Fly closer to the ground! There are no smells up here”

“I need mud in my feet and a crotch in my nose”

“Land here!

There’s a pile of garbage”

‍

I am here forever

What do I care!

and the bells ring again

not lost and not found…

‍

I do remember the perfect aroma of you.

‍

I know the infinite aroma of you all.

‍