012. Fishermen’s Town of Poets. Noé Obregón

In a small bar in the corner, between the way to the ocean and within, a bartender fools around with me.

He’s actually interested until truth bears free and I at the end of the bar lower my head in shame and defeat. He taunts us and we fall willingly, but I bare the answers deep inside me like a river that has traveled beneath its bearing. The barman tells me I’m a wise man and that I see everything, giving me a glance of what I saw and what I’ve seen. He plays us some Nina Simone and I fall to my knees, as soon as she sings “I have no (…)” my eyes turn to tears.

I can’t look at them and be glee. My eyes looking to the bar and they chat as nothing was being thrown to our very beings. He steers their drink with anger and some hint of hope, that with his outstanding cocktails they can break free. They are still asleep, yet the barman keeps playing that woman that burns me deep and I cry and I cry because of all I’ve seen: how fucked up is the world and how hard is to be. A better human, the best you can be. He mocks us with the music as he makes them fall for him and I just think how smart this guy must be. To be giving a class as he pours me a drink, to be breaking the glass without raising his fist.

Then, this town that I have dreamt about comes alive in my dreams. I tell myself it’s enough to set the world free. A town of fishermen, a town of sin, a town of pirates, a town of blessings, a town of hippies, a town of revolution, a town of progress, a town of peace. A town of poets which pumps my heart’s beat.