At the Hotel Miramar beside the Atlantic,
breakers are breaking, storm clouds
are brewing like coffee,
and no-one is interested.
At the Hotel Miramar, everyone
must play the piano, read a novel
in a cigarette’s glow
and occasionally set a page on fire.
It’s an imperative existence,
footfalls and black market dollars,
parrots on perches
with plumage refracted in spectral displays.
They played Piazzolla on the Vitrola
and we danced a slow tango, counting
our steps, treading on toes.
When the shadows were darker, everything was tidy
and the stigmata of life were autoclaved
My blood pulsed, my mind boiled,
my mouth was a desert
and my words were all wooden,
little wandering Pinocchios
who checked out at midday and took a coach to São Paulo.
At the Hotel Miramar
the unexpected finds you
in the first floor bar.
Once I had an illusion,
but I will never return.
The Hotel Miramar in this piece is fictional, but Astor Piazzolla, who created nuevo tango, is less fictional.
I started Inconstant Light to give a little background about my pieces in case someone was interested, and to support the publishers who buy the rights. The Third Dimension appeared on-line this year in Plasma Frequency Magazine, but kindling and kindle versions of the Second Quarter issue were not produced. Now the magazine has closed permanently, and my story, which is here, was evidently the last to appear. I’m certain my piece had nothing to do with the magazine closing its doors. Almost, anyway.
Mostly digital abstract—graffiti wall, road signs, lane markings. Or maybe graffiti markings, lane signs, road wall.