I let down the hem of the wide-legged jeans, ripping
the narrow seam thread by thread. Unfolded,
the white crease revealed their age. Heat and steam
made it more pronounced. I ironed it permanent
instead of out, blue marker the last indelible mistake.
We cannot undo lines carved by time, gravity, stone
washed denim dreams, that forever carry our story.
As we saunter and swagger in faux indifference, some piece
of us drags on the ground, fades with each wash.
Outgrown, ruined by inexperience, by wanting the impossible,
by longing to smooth out time, to have even a simple wish
granted, by being unripened and unknowing in the unstoppable
slow reveal of loss, impersonal as a sea of tombstones.
Etched names unstitched from those who wore them
outlive visitors, are spoken no more.
Here lies a young girl’s longing
1976-1978
Oh I like this one very much Bonnie.
Un abrazo – thank you!
lecciones de vida Bonnie…lo que vamos aprendiendo en nuestro vivir….got to me !!!
Guao, Jorge. Gracias por decírmelo!