why not allow a tiny fraction of magical realism in existence?

it’s a new world
every time you step outside
of your room

every time you
leave home

every time you
get out of your mind

Happened to him about
two days ago

he barely cared enough to
remember

all he knew now was
that he hadn’t been
outside for
at least two straight days
and nights
and hadn’t breathed fresh air

and the only thing pushing
him to emerge
was the lack of alcohol
in his system and in all
rooms of the house. All
three of them 
indeed

alcohol was a good enough
substitute for
company

Alcohol and just a dash
of good music. Never loud

He’d been replacing company with
alcohol and music
and dreams
for two straight days
and nights

Why do lovers just get up
and leave?
he wonders now

What happened to trying to
fix things?

When did giving up become
the only solution?

Eh, questions for
another day,
another time

a less sober time
maybe

for now he leaves the apartment
building behind
and relearns how to
walk
as he makes his way
towards the grocery store

the sight of a couple of
trash cans around
the corner
reminds him that he would’ve
taken the trash out

he stops a bit

considers whether he should
turn
back or keep going

the impact of fresh air
and soberness makes
him dizzy

for a heartbeat he thinks
he’s hearing voices

but no
he’s not gone that
far yet

the voices are as
real as he is

coming from behind
the trash cans

saying, “This one. I could
eat this candy bar
for the rest of my life. I could
eat a villion of ‘em!”

“You don’t even know
what it tastes like.”

“But look how cool it looks.
It’s out of this world!”

“I bet it’s crazy expensive,
too.”

“I seen a wrapper
in the can once.”

Just two street urchins
drooling over
the crumpled, faded pages of
a food magazine

He made the briefest eye
contact with them

continued on his way

The grocery store
was unchanged. Beer was still in the
beer aisle. Fruits still
in the fruit aisle.
Oh, and candy bars. Close by.
The ones those kids were
talking about

What in the hell was
this supposed to be?

A kind of
sign?

Those two kids probably never
ate a candy bar
in their lives

What if he actually got
them some?
How would that change their
lives?

He began feeling like
the protagonist of
a goddamned family movie
where Christmas miracles
happen or some
shit like that

Well
what the hell?
There was no law stating that
movies and reality can’t cross
each other a bit

Why not allow a tiny fraction
of magical realism in
existence?

He bought four of
the damned candy bars
along with a six pack of
the cheapest brand of
beer

paid

got out of the
store and
said, “Well, fuck.” when he
came to the trash cans
and the two kids
were no longer there

Yeah. Fuck magical realism
and divine intervention
and Deus ex Machina
or whatever the fuck they call
it these days

the universe
god
whatever
doesn’t work like that

nothing in this world
ever fucking works
the way human
mind intends for it to

Not. A damn. Thing.
Ever.

That’s why we have stories
and movies to keep
us entertained

The only way to control
reality is
to build another one, a model
of it. A fake one that
imitates the real thing
and works based on a
script

man cannot control
what he did not
create
for he too is but a
creation

The only way is to
give up

Let the world be
what it will be
and don’t interfere

He threw the candy bars
into the trash cans
one in each
and went back home

Enough interaction with
the world
for today

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "why not allow a tiny fraction of magical realism in existence?"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!