Am I wanted or Not

With a cup of Mexican coffee
I have no petals to count
(like I would with a daisy)
Still, I ponder:
Am I wanted, Am I wanted not
by that country

By that country I have fallen in love with
like with a film star
(platonic love, god knows what it's really like)
which plays on my heart like on a string instrument
but at the same time
wears a hostile grin
when I reach out
(getting there seems like climbing a Mayan pyramid)

With a cup of Mexican coffee
I tear off butterflies' wings instead of petals
(it hurts me as if I was them)
I feel unwanted by that country
pushed angrily away
with the only harbor I have there
an island flooded by wild waves
The mysterious island with an unusual name
Argel

The Moon’s Nights with The Mexican Sun

Last night they talked. Behind him, as usual, she could see blazing Mexican Sun, creating aura at the back of his dark hair. It always evokes a religious picture in her, a feeling of coming to a source of warmth and light. She is always in the dark, wrapped in the Czech night which mercifully covers deep shadows of her own past. However, she shines in the middle of that darkness. Her pale skin, fair hair and white face make her look like the queen of the Moon or a pearl among dirty coal. It is because she is illuminated by the Mexican Sun within his look and his smile. He has powers which are dangerous to her because they could change all her planet and maybe even the whole universe. She can already feel that something in the core of her planet has become hot and red and that it might later erupt. It is scary, she is scared. It is difficult to leave the known form, it is hard to leave the known world. And he always brings her something new, something she didn’t know existed in the real life and if it did, it was not for her. Nearly every time he lays a new step for her as if she was locked in a Mayan tomb and he was building a staircase for her to lead her from her darkness into the Sun. A man who is kind to a woman. A man who openly tells her he loves her. A man who gives up something he enjoyed only because it was making her uncomfortable. A man who changes her priorities because his priority now is her. She still cannot believe they are real. All she has known so far were men who were cold, not receptive to her emotions, sexually using her, abandoning her when she needed them most. That has made the Moon a planet with a seemingly colder look, shyly appearing at night and again disappearing from the sky month after month from fear of response when it showed too much of itself. But the Mexican Sun is not giving up on her. He shines on her, sends all his warm energy in her direction and she feels desire to be pulled closer by his gravity. That new sensation grips her heart and sometimes she cannot concentrate or breathe. Sometimes it feels like a disease. At the same time this is the law. The Sun and the Moon cannot be without each other, they don’t make sense alone. The calling is inevitable. After all, the world finds itself in a new millennium, the Earth survived the alleged end of the world. Changes are bound to happen. The queen of the Moon is transforming into an ordinary girl which is a painful process. She is deeply touched by the man handing his heart to her. A precious heart of a man who she respects and who she likes more and more as he reveals more to her about himself.

 Sometimes the Moon is visible in the sky during the day. Sometimes it looks like lace or a brooch on an azure dress made for a garden party. It is subtle but pretty. Sometimes it comes out in the sunshine, too. One day soon also the girl will meet her man face to face in the broad light hoping that, being seen as she is with her faults, she will remain his queen of the night. They talked last night. And it already seems like hundred years ago. The Moon’s nights with the Mexican Sun are measured by mysterious interplanetary time.

My Man's Name, My Inspiration

Amor, Láska, Love is sitting in a vineyard
- with leaves as green as a part of the Mexican flag
Roztomilá, Lovely as Prague
- especially when the Sun caresses her roofs as Argel would touch Tinka's arms
Glued to Tinka's heart, soul and mind
- but painlessly, not like a paper heart Argel is later going to read about
Electrical, with voltage so high that it makes the internet stuck
- and maybe even the storms Tinka hears behind Argel's windows as echo of her own hungry cries
Láska, Love, Amor, the same in Prague as in Mexico City
- yet with two faces, one tanned and one milky white

Luna, Moon, Měsíc, that's suddenly me, always draped in the velvet of the night
And he is the Sun, with the aura of Mexican light which cannot compete with his happy smile
Nopales with thorns but so tempting at the same time
Dali's wife who roasted Salvator's pet rabbit for dinner so that it would be with them all the time
Elevating poetics when he greeted me for the second time at midnight, a mysterious hour when hands of a clock finally meet each other
Racing heart when I imagine him touching and kissing me, desire
Organtine veil, maybe the same which Inanna had to give up during her descent to the underworld
Sun and the Moon who are going to meet and create their own universe which will last - in terms of seconds -
at least
forever