You have not known what you are.
You have slumbered upon yourself all your life.
Your eyes have been as much as closed most of the time.
What you have done is already in mockeries.

The mockeries are not you.
Underneath them
And within them,
I see you lurk...


-Walt Whitman


23.7.17

the boxer



I SHALL REMEMBER YOU with a memory I have had in my childhood. One of my very first, really. It was past noon at Lola's, your home. I went straight for the balcony (which was where all the Almenanza grandkids went to hang in those good ol' days). Trudging up the wooden staircase, across the waxed floor, muffled music sifted through from one of the closed doors, that a few steps closer became a guitar progression and a voice, singing.


"Lay la lay, lay la lay lay lay la lay, lay la lay."


I go through a door and out into the blue skies, the melody pouring into the air, the hot laziness of the afternoon. And I listened. Looked into the window where it was coming from and there you were: propped up in bed, fingers plucking strings, lost in a song. Decades would pass before I learn it's actually 'The Boxer' by Simon & Garfunkle, before I understand the joy you had alone with it in that small room: folk songs are the best! I pray, wherever you are, that you can now sing the way you did back then, feel the same happiness deeply etched in your face, rest with the same...calm.


Until then, Tito. The song shall be in a loop, as you are.