Asdrubal Quintero

¿Que pasa con las geopolitícas?

after “Love Galore”

 

1.

 

Anything per sembrare come

your love

shooting stars and all

in these tropical bars

Florida removed my waters

filled with foreign invaders

I don’t currently plan on sticking

around

I’ll upgrade my condos

and get a better view of Midtown

get a better set of pupusas

because love is love is love

that has to be earned

down the stairs

into the subway

glamour and rats galore

is love to be earned

you lonely bruh

ya got the whole world

swinging for ya bruh

but you up in the trees

feeling out these toxic breezes

a city built on top of a landfill

by the swamps and rivers

the fauna don’t get near anymore

you don’t smell like my tears no more

but I got lost in them chalk paintings

pinned up

wall up

on this Bushwick condo

reminder of who took over

this space

nerdy white boys

that have no idea

what to do next

and these colonies

ain’t thirsted

for so much supremacy before

but they got no course

no route

no lines

to the north pole or

north borough

you chew me out

like fountain drink ice

and wondered why I was so lost

but love ain’t make you feel stable

ain’t make you feel compromise

just long drawn flutes

and semitones

the red dress and sea spiral earings

compromising for what reasons

because I’mma be anything

but this gentrified pin-up

this open park bullshit

and clean up the sidewalks

when you want shit

I want to be chained

and willing

so that I don’t swim away

lost in the rivers

I want to be earned

and kept like rose gold

scraped over pizza slices

luxury in ya

live like luxury in ya

in ya eyes

in ya belly

breaking the norms

crunching the shoes

this love didn’t make me

sensational

I’m bloated

on the dictionary

platitudes

high school boyfriends

and various internments

don’t swing my way

don’t unlock my phone

all that’s there

are deleted text threads

and platonic loveboys

ain’t gotta fall flat

like them stones

ain’t gotta love you

like hot steam

up the shorts

but I’m oriented

by this idea

of anything

anything for ya

but blue exploding over ya

rooftops like blue

but don’t get the sensations

my magic gets lost on ya

anything to be anything

but me

because left me unloved

in this new life

 

2.

 

This poet tired of y’all platitudes.

Blowing up over ya buildings.

Taking a train to ya dreams.

He didn’t make sense of these scapes.

Lovely queers in the shower;

begging for this love galore

because he thought of what could’ve

been too.

Appearing along like peonies blowing up

over the diamond studs;

the desperate studs.

A dream is a dream is a dream

that had to be EARNED!

Blow me and make me rethink.

Name me senseless and emotional.

But, I ain’t no jingo.

I don’t beg to be part of ya state.

I wanted to earn these folds.

Build my whimsy in your teeth

because the construction of these bubbles

only made sense long term.

I will return to March

and it will smell of ripe streetside garbage.

But, that’s the cost of ya love.

Booty shaking for ya love.

Offer me that love galore.

Construct that new island over the river.

 


Asdrubal Quintero is a queer Latinx poet from NOLA now living in Spanish Harlem. Besides teaching fourth graders and dealing with obsessive anxiety, he’s listening to SZA and Solange and trying to get his life together. Follow him on twitter @asdrubalaq.


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