The average number of alfajores (per month) that made their way into my digestive tract and subsequently onto my thighs between the months of September and December….
The average age of the fleet of men clad in business casual who stood at a welcomed but obnoxiously close distance during rush hour on the subte….
The average number of times a day I spent considering selling all my belongings and some of my non vital organs to support my addiction to Argentina….
The number of times Gloria called me a chancha for spilling (otra vez, Nicole?!) on her tablecloth….
The number of days I’ve been away from the place that challenged me, cultivated my spirit, and fostered my sense of adventure and creativity….
It’s been a month, 30 days, that these size nine feet of mine have been planted on US soil, and truth be told, not a day has gone by where they don’t ache to be skipping down those Buenos Aires sidewalks, dodging dog-poop bombs and cracked pavement once again. For the one-month anniversary of my departure, I’m going to take you del otro lado de la noche – and share one of my favorite poems by Francisco X. Alarcón. This bilingual book of poems is currently my nightstand companion, and since I value both the status of your bed-side table and your poetic mind, I implore you to at least entertain the idea of upping the stanzas and muting the static in your life.
I. Orden en la casa I. Order in the home
me reclamas you complain
porque dejo because I leave
toallas húmedas damp towels
sobre la cama on the bed
todas las cosas all things
tienen su lugar have their place
me aleccionas you lecture me
los libros the pile
amontonados of books
en la mesa off the kitchen
de la cocina table
yo me apresuro I hurry
y cubro and cover
con mi cuerpo with my body
los calzones the underwear
que relucen that gleams
como sonrisa like a smile
sobre el sofá on the red
rojo de la sala living room sofa