I remember our last moments together as though I’m living them right now: that balcony, Valencia, you wore the crooked crown. Perched up on your throne you made us poverished delicacies, dainty treats, those thin pink meats as they shredded between my teeth. The sun was setting over the cathedral, you were trying not to look me in my eyes, the glances you never stole were the hardest goodbyes. You told me that you loved me and that we’d meet again, asked for my ukulele, my most proud possession. I wouldn’t give it up, I won’t give it up, as we traipse through the park. We part in the same manner as our start: a hot passionate kiss, feelings of a weeklong romances sullen bliss.
Ode to Guapo as I eat these savory thin crackers that remind me of the ones we used to put Brie cheese and prosciutto. A toast to you my long lost lover and friend 🍾