Spell of Wonders

For no reason

it came to my mind

the holy mouth of my mom

begging to me

'to watch my language'

it wasn't a dream

or not at all

I mean it was totally unreal

like a flash back

in the middle of a very common day

a reasonable and ordinary long day

a gray and rainy business day

I didn't mentioned it but

my mom died several years ago

and she never used to appear to me before

except for that night in Brooking, South Dakota

when she was upset in a dream

where we were both

but the uncanny thing was that

when I woke up she was still in the room

looking at me

the same way she used to scold me

as a child

that scared me a lot

specially because I don't believe in ghosts

or any supernatural phenomena

but the fact was that she was in that corner

levitating a foot and a half off the ground

while I run away and closed the door

and never went back to open it

but until the very day I needed to get my suitcases

'cause I was leaving the town

As I am writing this

I feel that I should agree with you

that it was not a totally logical attitude from my part

but I was afraid.

The first times

I used to look at that closed room

I felt some kind of remorse

it was like if my mother were trapped in there

but then I decided that the woman I saw

just looked like my mother

but probably was a different one

I mean a different ghost

I started to think that it was so strange

that she were there

considering the fact that she died more than 13.000 miles away

but I need to confess that I was confused

and also so tired

I should mention that in those days

I had sold myself as a slave

to teach Spanish at the local College

and in such itself surreal circumstances

my life had turned strange enough

to admit any possibility.

This ocurrance

that living in San Francisco

or Buenos Aires had been considered irrational

there, in the middle of that frozen nowhere land

started to look pretty normal.

But now

after several years of rationalist efforts

and living in the core of a Cartesian neighborhood

it seems not fair

the irruption of the sickly-sweet voice of my mother

asking for an extra dose of respect.

it troubles me indeed

'cause I love profanities

which put spells of wonders

on the mean ass

of the reality.

David Miralles  9 de julio de 2010