by Jamie McCormick

Created on: June 19, 2008

The End of Time in Vina del Mar, Chile

I place my CD of Los Tres on top of my Old Navy t-shirt
In my sister's suitcase -
Which some would define as an object that holds,
Encloses, a container.
But for me it is a hole -
A black hole -
The means of transport between two alternate worlds.
[One I left a long time ago.
One I will leave shortly.]
As I step across the "Bienvenidos!" mat for the last time,

I breathe deeply, taking in the fragrance of
Flowers and dogs
Curiously mixed and surprisingly, both disgusting and delightful.
I turn back to kiss my second mother on the cheek,
And we sing, in unison but not in tune,
"Me voy. Qu lstima, pero adios!"
This time, it is a real "adios".
Walking across the unlevel streets of poorly laid asphalt
And the cracked and crumbling sidewalks,
I realize that my feet have become strangely accustomed
To the irregularity.
I fear they will feel uncomfortable,
Out of place,
On the smooth streets of "home".
Rows of brightly colored, dissimilar houses mark my path to the beach -
Left at the orange sign that advises,
"Hombres trabajando".
It seems more whimsical, more beautiful,
Than "Men working".
In a moment, that whim diffuses, covering the entire city
Like sand covers the beach.
But the sand forms the beach,
Just as that whim forms the essence of the idea of Via.
I sink my toes into the coarse grains mixed with broken shells
And I wait for him.
The chocolate, white like me, that he brought for us to share
Melts on my tongue
As the colors melt across the canvas of the sky.
The knowledge that the vibrance and variety of color
Comes from the pollution of ships in the harbor
In no way taints the scene or makes it less beautiful.
"Quera ver la ltima puesta del sol," I say to him.
"I wanted to see the last sunset," I say to my heart.
The sensuous sound of Spanish rolling off the tongue
Intermingles with the squawks of seagulls on the shoreline
Flooded in the false daylight of illuminated resorts and artisans' lamps.
And streetlights flickering to life across the bay mark the descent into evening in Valpo.
I know the water is too cold,
But I stick my feet in anyway,
And the iciness warms my heart.
I dance as I walk away, two motions at once,
One real and one imagined.
But which is which?
"Escolar" I mutter, as I flash my student pass after boarding the micro
Where I am immediately surrounded by
Bad haircuts and awesome pants.
Two lovers, too young, kiss passionately in the back seat,
And on the beaches,
And on the park benches and the sidewalks and the school stairs.
I step off the bus,
Or the edge of the world, it seems,
And a sign warns, "Peligro a 50m".
But the only thing I fear lies at my feet.
Climbing the stairs with my ticket in hand and my suitcase weighing me down,
I see a Tur-Bus speed by, headed, probably, for somewhere I've been,
Or haven't been -
There are plenty of both.
I see her and smile,
Then hand her the bag of Oregano she accidentally left in my bag.
"Ah, por eso vine."
But I know that's not why she came.
And so does she.
We both wanted one more hug
Before time, the tyrant of happiness, whisked me away.
"Volver!" I swear to her, and I will go back
Before the memory fades completely.
Sometime during that 5 month, 15,000 mile long trip,
I fell into an expanding universe -
So big I can no longer live in the minutiae.
The ordinary only has meaning in comparison with the extraordinary,
The usual in comparison with the unusual.
My heart expands also, faster than the universe,
Attempting to contain two worlds at once,
As if that's possible.

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