Samba

From top of floats
I throw you flowers
Sway my hip in the air
Turn my back
Turn my head
And send you a kiss:
a hurtful kiss.

Those were the last nights in November
Iicks on my breasts
Dribbles in bed
Mayhem in tender.

Goal, pretender.

And when you feel
The blues in Brazil
Don’ fetch your guitar “fender”
Do not make a jam
Turn straight to samba
Jazzman.

Saudades

I feel your lips so fresh and fake
It is false memory
I fear your beard scratching my back
Playing with me
Long for your arms,
sweet and bad

Mad harmony.

How could I not?
I loved you, idiot.

My heart’s in shock.
My heart is stunned.

I was left with a bloat stuck in my throat.
(It was my heart).
I regret our love.

I liked your body
I despise your soul

But should I miss your hug?

CACHAÇA

CACHAÇA YOU
WICKED DRINK: CACHAÇA
VIRUS, PC VIRUS
ADDICTION
CONTRADICTION
LOVE
MUCH LOVE
DEAD
OR ALMOST THAT
FALL
FAULT AND BLISS
CURSED MISHAP
PICTURES I MISS
DANCE STEP
STEP BACK
FAKE SHINE
BUT SHINE
TIMES WHEN WE KISSED
STILL PERVADE
THE LOVE WE MADE
REFLECTS
THE DAY WE MET
BY CHANCE
AND CHANGED OUR FATE,
MEANwhile.

São Paulo
I heard you are leaving.
I can’t sleep, São Paulo neither.
The door won’t open
lights come in through the window.
Millions and millions of hearts outside are living too.

They say you’re wasted.
I’m just in the living room
being part of the city
Huge and rich and poor and ugly and pretty.
It’s so pretty that when you are gone
you close your eyes
you’ll think it’s a lie.

I am devastated
Glued to the site where life has just placed me.
I’m an empty chipped statue in the human community.
It’s my apartment, it was our home.
But living in São Paulo, I won’t be alone.
Millions and millions of hearts and desires come along.

I am all messed up.
I look at the gray sky where the airplanes are moving
Then there will be you hovering upon our building.
The moon is full behind clouds
I just am stuck,
but I guess saying goodbye to São Paulo:
that will hurt.

Jabuticabas

Internal like the intimacy between Earth and moon
The way the moon is part of the sky
As if it were only sky
its kernel
Its origin and end
and itself
Though the moon lies while lies above
We all depend on truth to exist

As restless as things being born:
Your eyes
Condensed night
Against the spread of your white skin
The opposite, likewise
By contrast, fierce combat
I fight
In your jabuticaba eyes.

Daniela Vecchia lives in Sao Paulo. She teaches English though she majored in Philosophy.

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