Heart of Cuba
for Ariadna de la Torre

“Me!” she said, in response to
“Would you like me to hold something for you?”

to enable her, beside me/just behind me
to get off the bus with her backpack,
with another weighty item in a bag

she wanted me to hold her, us two
to hold hands

our two hands, one swift fist
help her off, help her down
help her to the ground

on four feet to where I lived
returning me to where she’d met me
that day, that afternoon

already linked like old friends, old pals

hold me - not that, not this
or bull shit or side-stepping

direct, fearless,
instead of timid to, determined to connect
add herself to myself

and I feel necessary, worthwhile,
appreciated, needed

wanting all my life to add up
someone to be added to
to be a plus on this planet,
in this world


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
24.07.09