This is about someone you don't know. This person pens accounts
of boredom under duress, when good people go deaf.
They lay tracks in a country where they don't speak the language
and are memorizing the customs. They correspond on the luck
of the draw when commoners start wielding golf pencils.
This person is no Sandburg, no newspaper muscle to flex.
No Richard Engel, with the full faith and backing of the
National Broadcasting Company. No, this person does not
even exist, they are beyond the reproach of existing.
They certainly have no teaching experience, don't know
third world normal schools in the first world, or pregnant
Puerto Rican pupils in Holyoke with no GED
baby daddy's thinking he can eat the world
with a brick certificate from the jail.
Again, this person has never lived next to you,
you have never asked to borrow their teal Accord
so that you can make more scratch than the U trickles.
This person has never written a novel about inmates
manning ginormous oil derricks in the Gulf of Mexico,
they are not adulants of George Saunders or Saramago
and they were not personally saddened by the fantastic
suicide lesson of the Lobsterman.
A Spanglish blog dedicated to the works, ruminations, and mongrel pyrotechnics of Yago S. Cura, an Argentine-American poet, translator, publisher & futbol cretin. Yago publishes Hinchas de Poesia, an online literary journal, & is the sole proprietor of Hinchas Press.