Remember These Things

Feel good, feel big, wide, spread out, stretch out, soak up. These are the memories that build up your skin, these are the moments that fill up your heart, that pour out your mouth, fill up your eyes, jumble up your mind. Do you want to be a person? Do you want to be a whole person, a person of substance, a person to hold onto, to drift away with? Do you want to be a person that can be seen, a person that fills up a page, a portrait or a poem, a person that can see, with clear eyes, eyes full of reference points yet clean as a blue summer sky? Then open wide, tilt back, soak up, take in these little seconds, their stillness, their incessant hum, just fling back, let go, take it in, let it all fade by in a blur, just so long as you remember the way it felt, at least, let it all come at you, come in you, like the most beautiful film you’ve ever seen, with it’s booming, whispering, with it’s sobbing, laughing, screaming orchestra. These are the sounds that will hold you at dawn, when the sun ignores you, and rises up and reaches out, these are the memories that will come back to you, in fragments, pieces, all cut up and scrambled and coded into secrets, when you sleep, behind your eyelids when you are hiding from persistent sunlight. Touch it all, let the days run through your fingers, like sand, just as long as you remember how it felt, that smoothness, slipping by, and the little scoop it came from, and the little mound it made.

Remember these things: Thursday night plastic bottles in a loft, the deep red walls, the sting of the air on the street, wobble steps, to the door, the brown neck of a beer bottle, the cold clammy glass, a song, or another, and your feet shuffle, and the doorman, who remembers you, he’s a short man, smiling, little slips of paper, foam, those stumble steps, again, some empty place and that laughter when you leave, the rush and thrum of music, music, music, letting yourself fall away back into it, darkness, bumping, someone with dreadlocks, a Santa Cruz t-shirt, the laughing with your hand over your mouth, time that slips and disappears, and those fucking bathrooms, of course, waking up in a stifling darkness, and falling in and out of it, and then the deep bells jangling, it’s four pm, citrus, panting, uphill, hot water, in cups, unexpected neighbor call, the humming belly surprise, tobacco scent soft and usual, easy words, watching them, and, then, a, long, moment, of, sitting, late morning sunshine, stop and go, outside, in like a sponge, open pores, eyes all sparkling, the city down below, the Alhambra, stoic and brown as ever, just perched, the wind, smoking, the soft smell of one spliff or another, picking down the hill, quick hellos, yellow beer in long glasses, counting my silences, but content, and out onto a bench, a stubborn dog, a three man band, strumming, blissfaced eyes closed, beer, bathroom, beer, and out and over and up into a plaza, on a bench, hugging the last rays of sunlight, borrowed music, the eyes that close, the feet that tap, and the growing moving impermanent sway of human vibrations all around, the animals tussling in the dry dirt, the sun blushing out and down, drums across the plaza, guitar and flute, all mixed up, solid redwrapped litros and shared shivers, swaying, watching, all those beautiful people, and as the evening turns purpley the beat rises us and everyone scrunches around, those distant smiles, stamping feet, absolute in the sound, dirty fingers lifting up cigarettes and fingering wind instruments, and it swells up, and down we go, plunging into the cobblestone maze, a sweet teashop pastry hello, living room drinks, bitter and pink, speed cooking, all amped up and hungry, and laughter, and maps, and we’re dancing at the bus stop, waiting, the burning plastic bottle, the last stop, a lucky guess, and hello, hello, we’re here, glow in the dark masked debauchery, fling ourselves around, sweating to the sounds, jostling, climbing, and we’re spotlighted, cheering, arm in arm, conga line, kick, kick, exultation, and singing too loud in the bathroom, slamming on the walls, some angry face, and the whole thing has only just begun, here we are laughing, masked and only us dancing, fuck it, new faces, new places, a feeling like tugging, what are the things I know about you, the hours drank down into empty bottles, cans, cups, dimming lights, and down on Elvira, spilled beer on the ground, salsa picante, and some conversation that I can’t taste, and dark night shivering, drive up easy, collapse, and then, brief oblivion, it starts again, meandering down, dancing steps all on the road, those faces turning, looking, us looking, laughing, finding, some unexpected faces, hello, and we are here, swaying again, sun like honey all across us, smoke curled all around our eyes until sunset is soft gray beautiful, puppy prancing, we move to keep the shadow out, and separate and then find ourselves all mixed up together, again, in the sound, in the beer, rocking on the steps of the Cathedral, curled up on some large terrace, spit down onto the sidewalk, and, then, the silent, walk, home, just quiet, just happy, just cold, just okay.

These are the things that you must grab, that you must not crush, these are the things you must hold soft as a butterfly, that you must retain within you, that you must let out of you, all at once. Do you want to remember? Do you want to be, feel, to know what you are looking for, what you have had? This is how.