Alejandros stands in the garden.
There are tears
for miles, and inky cherubs everywhere.
My addictions to the ocean and to lies.
Alejandro looks at me. He is the marionette of AndalucÃa. He is the sea.
The Alejandros heave and sound the drum-roll of ancient civilizations.
Somewhere inside me he clobbers a beast and I tend to a child. Somewhere
inside me I clobber a beast and he is a child,
and there was my childhood,
my knobby knees; the need to be beautiful,
and there laid the collateral of my life,
weaknesses in me that smelled like the Mediterranean
You don’t need a sea to be happy
by Lisa Marie Basile
from Pank Magazine