M a r t a N ú ñ e z P o u z o l s —

Zone of totality
Early withdrawal
Internal Report
Dead tongue

Active agent
Timeshare model
Eye shadow
Warning shot 

Out of sect
Work permit
Mood ring
Shell praise 

Time sensitive
Fire drill
Strategic retreat
Protein bar 

Projected population
Pressure point
Preliminary finding
Culture shock

Pity party
Proto influence
Elective affinities
Labor day 

Pre tax
Post mortem
Underpinning
Super food 

Old bread
Lieu of flowers
Resident alien
Leg day 

Engagement measure
Blind eye
Personal loan
That girl 

Private equity
Padre nuestro
Multi tasker
Boot strapping 

Triple threat
Narco state
Normal dreaming
Anti bodies

Crickets

Sea level

Lab work
 

Rescue mission

 

Buddy system
 

Syntax tree
 

Oracle
 

Waiting room

Indefinitely                           postponed                                                          lifeline

                                                              Extended

release,                                                          my slow friend

SAN PEDRO

The favorite presocratic is Anaximander. Anaximenes was right about atoms but Anaximander was right about the infinite. The infinite is apeiron. Apeiron looks like a spiral of eternity. I drew spirals with apeiron written in Greek and left one inside the mouth of a vending machine. I left another inside the empty tp holders at the bus station. Not the one you go to take a bus to the beach, but the one with the young men charging for sex. The one next to the indoor swimming pool. My friend is having a breakdown and yelling something about atoms. Before cuffing him a policeman asks me: Who is Adam?

Marta takes a picture of me on the mirror of the bus station bathrooms. She says I look like Ian Curtis. She says that Ian Curtis’ death was the best thing to ever happen to the history of music. Salo’s boyfriend says my pictures look alive. Like there are people doing things. You can look at them on the back of the camera, arrow arrow arrow. Before going out, I put on talcum powder on my face. I make snakes with my hair, freeze them with hair gel. One time I faintly trace a boy’s name on my arm. We only kissed once but we write letters. The cuts are barely scratches. I put a bit of blood on my lips and it dries. Someone in class likes my lipstick. In Music class we do nothing, just listen to classical music. I always request Lacrimosa. Sometimes I skip class to go back to my room and listen to my cds. The music teacher says he’s never been drunk. Us, we buy one liquor bottle for three. Plus a two-liter soda for mixing and a bag of ice. We carry it in plastic bags and walk for thirty minutes to Saint Peter’s square.

During the day, people stop there to look at the mosaic. If you don’t see the bird on the mosaic you’ll never get married. If the broom touches your feet while sweeping you’ll never get married. If you light more than one cigarette with your own cigarette you’ll never get married. But we go there at night, when ice cubes are both currency and weapons. The square is geographically divided by the music the teens listen to. Techno rumba at the back. Heavy metal to the front. Hip hop on one side. Hippies on the other. The goths are very close to the square, but technically not in it. The girls go to pee right next to where Velazquez was born. Ten years before then I asked my dad why there was so much pee in the streets downtown. He said the apartments were too old and they didn’t have bathrooms. I also saw a movie trailer in which two women kissed. I told my mom and she said that was impossible. I went to pee with Ana and then we kissed. She thought my mom was a therapist. My dad thought Ana’s boyfriend had stolen my cell phone. My two best friends in middle school were also called Ana. One of the Ana’s dad was a doctor and my mom reported him. In my cell phone you could type music notes and compose your own ring tone. Mine was the funeral march. I asked Chano to do it for me at the beach. I couldn’t read music.

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