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Lyrics

To Santiago

Today the walk from Providencia
to Barrio Brasil happened
without my body's knowledge.
My mind sailed the four miles
on the ship of my legs, not
remembering or not caring that
it is a long walk.
The only thing
long about it is the shadows
as the sun begins to set, painting
me in blinding light. The only
thing blind about it is what
seems like silence descending the
bridge. It is a silence you
step into
like water, like the puddles
of piss on the street,
like a dress, like a
personality, like a life, like
a room. The only silent thing
is the wind, but it makes
the longing trees talk; bending
their heads together, the wind
caresses all their gossip
out of them, and leaves me,
finally, on a bench with all
their secrets in my lap.