Tuesday, July 22, 2008
22 Julio 2008. Gray morning, four black crows on a single streetlamp stanchion, high above. Two by two, it seems. Moving closer, the ones on the left, each reaching out to touch the other's beak. A perfectly normal way of being: tendresse among the corvidiae.
Dos hermanos, Tafí del Valle, Tucumán. Their cast off clothes, hand-me-downs, the older one already with the stance of a man, jacket arm draped around his brother's shoulder, small hand exposed. Eyes askance--the hour, the setting, the world? Rubber boots for an awaited rain, dry hills--arroyos and vados--en las sendas de Tafí...
* * *
Qué mala será mi pena,
que sólo sabe penar.
Cómo me duele esta pena
de irme tan lejos de mi tucumán...