The Color of Summer: or The New Garden of Earthly Delights (12 page)

is surely Avellaneda.

She was, after all, his inspiration.

T
HE
N
UN
:

And therefore his perdition!

T
HE
O
LD
W
OMAN
:

No,
that
would be Cepeda.

A H
IGHLY
R
ESPECTED
A
STROLOGER
N
OW
L
IVING IN
M
IAMI
:

O dearly beloved,

the planets and stars above us

tell me that Gertrudis,

being a Sagittarius,

will be caught committing incest .

in the year 2001

in a whorehouse in Tijuana.

T
HE
A
TTORNEY
G
ENERAL
:

Good lord! Alert immigration!

She’s a menace to the nation—

we do not want people like her

in our neighborhoods.

T
HE
N
UN
:

And another thing that I’ve heard tell

is that she’s illiterate—can’t even
spell!

A H
OUSEWIFE
:

But you know, I bet that’s Cuban propaganda—

they do that sort of thing a lot, down in Havana.

T
HE
A
STROLOGER
:

It’s not propaganda—it’s a fact!

She couldn’t spell her way out of a paper sack.

T
HE
O
LD
W
OMAN
:

And they also say that she’s a glutton.

T
HE
F
EMALE
P
ROFESSOR OF
L
ITERATURE
:

Just look at her—she’s busting her buttons!

I ask you: Could anyone as fat as that

be a decent poet?

M
ARIANO
B
RULL
:
(still dressed in tulle)

How can you people mention me in the same sentence

as that big fat thing (and so-so poet) Gertrudis!?

She and I are
nothing
alike—not even close!

She’s
never written poems to a rose

and I’ve never lived a life as scandalous as hers.

Plus—I
live
to wear the latest clothes

while she’s
completely
out of fashion!

Did I mention my poems to the rose?

You’ll love them, just have a listen:

Rosa rosarum, rosisimus amorisimus!

That buzzardous comatose (and very obese) poetess

has
never
hymned the rose!

She’s nothing but a posthumous poetizing
poseuse!

C
HORUS
:
(pointing out to sea where Avellaneda has almost capsized)

A comatose posthumous poetizing
poseuse!

Key West darkens and the Malecón lights come up.

D
ELFÍN
P
ROUST
:

Now again, ladies and gentlemen, here comes that john of all trades—Endinio Valliegas!

E
NDINIO
V
ALLIEGAS
:
(standing on the wall of the Malecón)

Barefoot I walk the golden beach,

naked I swim in the green sea,

for I am a pink cockleshell

and any boy (I mean
anybody)
can pick up
me!

D
ELFÍN
P
ROUST
:
(interrupting)

You’re not a cockleshell, you’re a sea urchin!

A sea-cucumber at the bottom of the ocean!

E
NDINIO
V
ALLIEGAS
:

I am a tree, the needle’s prick . . .

D
ELFÍN
P
ROUST
:

A queen who lives to turn a trick.

V
ALLIEGAS
:

I am not one to overreach,

to visit the salon or palace

of some new social leech.

D
ELFÍN
P
ROUST
:

The leech is Coco Salas.

V
ALLIEGAS
:
(furious, to Delfín)

Your grandmother Alice

is the leech, you bloodsucker!

(now calmer)

I do not betray the turtledove

(or, like Delfín, charge for my love).

I am the swallow with spread wings,

the flight of the owl,

the startled little squirrel . . .

D
ELFÍN
:

A frog that tries to sing . . .

V
ALLIEGAS
:

I am all things, save that dreariness

portrayed in graveyards and whorehouses . . .

D
ELFÍN
:

A faggot famous for his fatuousness.

V
ALLIEGAS
:

I am whatever you make of me,

whatever you invent for me,

to turn my tears to morning mist.

D
ELFÍN
:

An imbecile babbling pure nonsense.

V
ALLIEGAS
:

I am a green voice, a lover forsaken,

innocently seeking,

with the sweet panpipe tweeting

of a wounded shepherd.

D
ELFÍN
:

You’re a drag queen—no, make that
screaming
queen—that

screws German shepherds.

V
ALLIEGAS
:

I am all things, save that which hides,

with a mask covering its face.

D
ELFÍN
:

I’m a fairy shrieking, “I’m leaving this place!!”

V
ALLIEGAS
:
(to Delfín)

Shut up, asshole—for that, there’s a reason!

(Now addressing the ocean, speaking in a voice breaking with emotion:)

A buried life, blind obedience—

it’s better to leave than serve out a life sentence.

D
ELFÍN
:

My advice to you, Mary, is patience.

V
ALLIEGAS
:

I try, I try,

but I cannot acclimatize.

D
ELFÍN
:
(imitating Valliegas’ tone of voice)

“Here are the hustlers come to slay me—

but when I dead and bloody be,

weep no more, dolphins of the deep,

I didn’t give them blow jobs till I’d lost all of my teeth.”

V
ALLIEGAS
:

Shut
up,
you insolent curmudgeon.

I’ll have no more aspersions cast on my poetry.

cast on my poetry.

D
ELFÍN
:

You
shut up, you pitiful old queen.

V
ALLIEGAS
:
(trying to ignore Delfín)

In golden gambolings I disport,

in poesy’s airy curvets I cavort.

D
ELFÍN
:

It sounds to me like a horse fart!

V
ALLIEGAS
:
(waving a razor blade)

Shut your mouth or I’ll cut out your heart!

F
IFO
:

I’ve had enough of these two faggots, by god.

Take them both to the firing squad.