There was un
momento, a
poem
I wrote while
driving the
car.
My ego would
not let
me
pull over to
jot it
down.
"If a poem
is so
powerful
it will return,"
I have
boasted
for a long
time to
other
poets, as if
I possessed
some
knowledge they did
not already
know.
It feels like
years and
yet
that poem has
not yet
returned.
What I recall
is that,
somehow,
it related to
perfect timing
y
flamenco.
