JAIMES PALACIO March 2010

Jaimes Palacio, once voted Orange County's "Best Wacky, Vaguely Latino Poet," has been published in all three of Tebot Bach's poetry anthologies and had chapbooks published by FarStarFire Press and Inevitable Press. He has also been on the board of directors for the Orange County Poetry Festival, creating and hosting "New Voices," an annual showcase for up-and-coming talent. Formerly a columnist for Next...Magazine and a poetry picks writer for the OC Weekly, he has also produced and hosted several successful weekly readings. For the non-poets: If you got married within the last 10 years, he probably DJ'd your wedding.

In Search of Beauty

The model is secretly thinking of
Pablo Neruda, her laundry, if she forgot
to feed the goldfish before leaving
the apartment. A stuttering Nikon spins
around her like a small humming alien
craft orbiting some celestial body; receiving
and translating what it sees into its own,
more permanent, language.

White umbrellas burn like
multiple suns, the flash from the camera,
like sudden lightning, Ravel’s Bolero
on the boom-box, like thunder. The vague scent
of roses wafting above like perfume
in the air after a light rain.

In his way he is controlling
the weather; choosing the temperature,
and atmosphere of this private planet;
creating his own Eden, populating it
with only the beautiful.

It is in those ambiguous curves
of their smiles that he finds
himself lost. Even though the delicate
balance of symmetry fades with each
passing moon. He checks the light
meter and grimaces, gently motioning
for an assistant. Everything must be
absolutely perfect: the play of shadow
as the model arches her back. The doorways
of light reflected in her eyes. The neck tilted
at an angle.The questioning, curious glance
aimed towards the heavens, as if searching
for a rainbow.

Accidents

She was a collision he couldn't walk
away from. She wanted love to be
a boomerang. To come back quick
and brutal.

He already had lost fingers
in a metaphorical war
of words and was suspect
of anything that returned.

When they first met he learned
that she was all about the Feng Shui.
Sharp corners. Shiny counter tops. Clean
furniture.

Her fruit of choice was "figs." Her favorite
body part: the bust. Everything in her life
seemed to revolve around "the bust."

She hated driving and especially sudden
U-turns. When the relationship -- or whatever
it was -- ended, it was her ex who was driving.
By instant message.

Seems she had suspected the boomerang
would never return.That it would forever pinball
between planets and moons.

She had no desire to be an astronaut. Had no skills
for navigation. Had to use GPS just to drive
a few blocks to the store.

And besides, space, she surmised
would have terrible Feng Shui.