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we are standing on the front step
the open doorway of this souvenir shop
the old woman watches us
as we pick and choose our gifts
she is beginning to warm up
as our shopping bag grows and fills fatter
with one dollar claves and maracas
this is not Disneyworld but wait
Alejandro appears suddenly
all goofy with his face like
some friendly smiling accident
i know right away he is not right
his eyes focus somewhere behind us
as overly helpful he falls down
struggles to regain a workable upright condition
all this while he rambles on
with his perfect English expressions
figures of speech
and comic timing of Jackie Mason
off center and smiling
he makes himself into our next photo-op
as his unhelpful face squashes into my focal length
like an unwanted kiss
so here now we begin
just off Calle Obispo
heading for our next
street romance
destination
with our new immediate best friend
and tour guide
Alejandro has no street skills
which all Cubans by nature possess
he doesn't want to show us
Papa Hemingway's favorite hangout
or where to get the cheapest Mojito in Havana
he wants to talk about movies
he bonds with Cheryl
about the English Patient
his favorite movie
he tells us about
all the great dentists in Cuba
and how his teeth got this way and that
about the time he spent in jail
for stealing dental floss
his scars and confusion are evident
he's not looking for tourism dollar relations
Cuban dogs
their dignity intact
you can't even get a hello
maniseros the peanut vendors
negotiate on behalf of thier slender tubes
jineteras wet and ripe on the Malecon
rub themselves with mint and sugar
all hours of the night
everything in the town is a cab for hire
suddenly Alejandro goes silent
open and vulnerable
his darkness descends
like the crumbling blue ceilings of solares
he becomes unprotected from the elements
waiting for the lights to go back on
or daylight
whichever comes first
Cubans have three inalienable rights he says
the right to drink rum
the right to make music
and the right to steal from the government
the waiter comes by our table
we order more Mojitos
an old man sings
to no one in particular
mi son...mi son...mi son
later Alejandro steals the glass for me
a gift
copyright 2004
Quentin
Josephy |
