sucking on lollipops at the end of the world
he taught me the word 'chupetin' and we bought two at the corner store,
tutti-frutti flavor, we suck them as we walk the fifteen blocks back home,
only letting go of each other to wipe the sweat off our palms -
it's summer in the southern hemisphere and we're wearing chanclas and sharing a bottle of water.
we talk about how we fell in love, five thousand miles apart,
it doesn't feel real, still, the being together,
but he tells me he loves it -
laying on top of me and sucking my neck till it bruises.
I asked him, "joaqui, does my neck taste like tutti-frutti?"
"no, my love, your neck is salty and hot, and i want to eat it everyday"
our countries are being taken over by fascists,
so we talk about moving to europe (there's never been any fascists there, right?)
we can have a casita by the beach and raise our three kids on chupetines
they'll have parents who love each other like neither of us had,
maybe we'll raise them so good they can fix our governments.
we ride the 4 by 4 elevator up to our apartment,
alternating our tongues between the lollipops and each other's mouths,
sticky backs pressed against cold mirrors, i watch myself with my tongue flicking against his
and i wonder how anyone could want to destroy this world.