Un día te despertaste
pusiste a andar la cafetera
te cepillaste los dientes
y mi retrato ya no te evocó
mañanas de otoño frente al mar.
Un día me desperté
puse el agua para el mate
me cepillé los dientes
y no supe que tu retrato
iba a ser la única forma de verte guiñar un ojo.
Un día los lobos salieron a correr
sin presa y sin manada
rompiendo todo a su paso
huyendo sin saber bien de qué
aullando sin saber qué decir.
Un día elegiste la crueldad más salvaje
de decirme cuánto me querías cuando me querías.
Y de mentir por omisión
sobre lo transitorio de mi suplencia.
Un día no supe que le di un último abrazo a tu tía
que vi la última ola del mar alejarse
que tiré mi último dado
que bajé por última vez la música del auto.
Un día te despertaste
pusiste el agua para el mate
te sonrió la chica a la que le mantuve tibio el lugar
y te diste cuenta
de que olvidaste cuándo fue la ultima vez
que pusiste a andar la cafetera para las dos.
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Jancy + “god, we’ve been together for ages! I didn’t think that borrowing a change of clothes would warrant this much attention.” Please!
Better Than Bacon Grease
Pairing: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler
Rating: T
Words: 707
GIF by @share-the-damn-bed
"I can't go out like this."
Jonathan stood at the foot of Nancy's bed; arms spread wide as Nancy giggled at his misfortune.
"It's not funny!" Jonathan bellowed, throwing his head back in frustration. "All because I had to dump out the bacon grease."
"And missing the canister completely," Nancy reminded him with another laugh.
"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan whined. "It looks like I pissed myself."
It would be the last time Jonathan tried to cook at the Wheeler's house. The cooking part went fine, perfectly even. He showed up at the Wheeler's house early and made breakfast for Nancy, Holly and Karen while Ted and Mike were off setting up for the block party that afternoon.
Conversation was light, breakfast was delicious and all that had to be done was clean up. But what is usually a coffee canister, at least at his house, the container the Wheeler's used to hold bacon grease had a lid far too small for pouring grease in it and as Jonathan tried to pour, he got it everywhere but the container, including his shirt and the front of his pants, right at the crotch.
"You were supposed to use the funnel!" Nancy said, shaking her head.
"Who uses a funnel to pour out bacon grease?!"
"We do!"
Jonathan sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"I have to go home a change," he said with finality.
"We don't have time for you to go home," Nancy reminded him. "We have to be at the block party in twenty minutes."
"We can be a little late," Jonathan said.
"Not when you're the photographer for the event, we can't!"
"What am I supposed to do?! Walk around smelling like a diner trash can all day?"
Nancy fell silent, chewing on her bottom lip. She looked down, a sly smile playing on her lips.
"What?" Jonathan asked.
"You can wear some of my clothes," she offered.
"Nancy."
"What? I have some oversized clothes you can try on."
What else was he supposed to do? He was not going to walk around full of grease all day.
"Fine. What do you have?" Jonathan finally said with a groan.
It wasn't bad. It really wasn't. Maybe a little tight. Maybe a little short, but it was better than wearing bacon grease all day.
The lavender Emerson t-shirt clung to Jonathan's lanky frame. Every time he raised his arms to bring his camera to his eye the shirt would ride up to his belly button.
Better than bacon grease.
The shorts left little to the imagination, black track shorts with white striping around the edges. They hugged places that would be considered indecent exposure in most states. But everything stayed covered, and nothing moved out of place. He just had to be careful when he bent down to snap a photo.
Better than bacon grease.
But the looks. The looks he was getting were making him uncomfortable, the center of attention. Long gazes that lingered on parts of him people had no right staring at. He just wanted to walk around and take pictures of the event like he was asked. He did need all eyes on his outfit.
But still. Better than bacon grease.
"God, we’ve been together for ages! I didn’t think that borrowing a change of clothes would warrant this much attention," Nancy laughed as she gave a tentative wave to Mike and the rest of the kids.
"I just don't think they're used to seeing the man wear the woman's clothes," Jonathan grumbled, pulling at the tight t-shirt and releasing the fabric with a snap.
"Well, that's sexist!" Nancy barked. "You have every right to wear my clothes, just like I wear yours. Nobody ever gives me looks when I wear your shirts."
"Probably because they fit you."
"Not the point."
"I think that's exactly the point. I probably look like I escaped from the insane asylum."
"Wouldn't be too farfetched," Nancy quipped.
"Har har har," Jonathan deadpanned. "Let's go get some pictures of the kids in the bounce house."
They walked together hand in hand, as everyone's eyes immediately went to Jonathan's outfit. A few people snickered, some gasped, but despite all that. It was better than bacon grease.
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Hay demasiados baches por Libertador
y todos los árboles son sauces sin hojas.
Cerraron todos los restaurantes.
Apagaron los semáforos
Incendiaron los autos que quedaron estacionados.
Asi que giro por Cerviño
paso a comprar velas
busco un martillo.
Con el fuego atras y el olor a melón
me ocupo de los huesos que tienen tu marca.
Doy 206 golpes.
Ahora queda
enyesar, descansar, construir de nuevo.
Y en mi reposo voy a soñar que crece
un jacarandá en Libertador.
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