Last night the young master gave me a coin,
one peseta
an old coin
not a new one bearing the likeness
of King Fernando
ruler and monarch of all the provinces
and colonies of Spain
including Cuba
especially Cuba.
Now La Marquesa gives me one of the new coins,
a pretty one, bright and shiny,
with the picture of the King.
Give it to that beggar who keeps
knocking at my door, she commands
and almost without thinking, I switch the coins
tossing them lightly from hand to hand
as I walk toward the door
open it
place a coin
in the palm
of the beggar.
I do it almost without thinking,
but not completely
because really, isn’t it true
that everyone is always thinking,
at least a little bit?
The shiny new coin has inscriptions
so even though its value
as money is the same as the old coin
I see a chance to read
and I take it
a chance to understand
the curls and angles
of mysterious letters,
delightful, adventurous
words.
The coin falls
the new one
intended for the beggar
who has already scurried away
thrilled to be holding my old coin.
Shameless!
La Marquesa cries out
when she sees me grabbing
the bright coin
the one that I’ve dropped
so now I try to hide it
but the shiny surface
and beautiful picture
and mysterious writing
make me look like I’m trying to lift a golden star
or the silver moon.
Shame!
Shouting and pulling me by the ear,
she accuses me
of stealing
from beggars.
She’s right,
I’ve stolen,
I’ve cheated
in order to possess strange letters and words,
letters that don’t even make sense,
so in an odd way she’s right:
I am shameless,
shameful.
She’s always right.
Isn’t she?
Or is she?
Maybe we’re both right.
Is such a thing possible?