They dress up.
They choose a face from the closet they don’t have on Thursdays
and comb a little flash into their worn out strut.
I let them buy me a drink
for pity’s sake
and later, their common places
stain my coat.
On Monday they will go back to work
dra gg ing their feet all the way
and will recount to everyone in detail
the novel their lips and mine
will never write.
Translated by Curtis Bauer
“Friday Carnival” is from Nanas para hombres grises (Lullabies For Grey Men) (Diputación de Huelva, 2006).
You can read and listen to the poem in the original Spanish here.