Qué bravas son las solteras. Dir. Tulio Demicheli. 1975
Her enthusiasm is immeasurable and I’m only guessing when I say her energy can be weighed in grams, but I will always be indebted to this song for teaching me how to say in Spanish my heart is beating so fast, which has come in handy.
I am enjoying an early morning vigor that is rare for me when calendar driven forces pair the moment with a specific measurement of time and space whose namesake is Monday. Unsupervised sunbeams promise a cozy morning and lure me from the soft polyester safety and blunt grays of my lover’s hybrid vehicle. I stand in the dusty driveway, still in sneakers and the throes of a mixtape and cardio-induced flashback. I am here and this is now and I shall express my solidarity with an at times foul and unpredictable universe with a dark breath bestowed upon me by Saturday night’s pot of black beans.