This moment is spawning into itself.
There is time left in the day,
enough that the sun continues to burn the crowd
trays of beer that they carry above their heads
through the people
who are holding flags and waving them
under the sound of fireworks
without the their light that is outspoken by the stronger light of day.
Loudspeakers, moving movie screens with changing images of attendees who are standing in the crowd. Everything is taking place directly outside the nation´s capital building
on a stage somewhere with some man screaming
who is too submerged with people for me to see who he is.
The function is for Christina Kirschner, who assumed the presidency yesterday. She is now Argentina´s first female president.
Right now this is unimportant to me,
it is a function for Christina turned tribute
for the Justisalista party, Eva Peron, Democracy.
While I am standing here I am not speaking, I know nobody here,
I am sending invitations to friends with insistant text messages
But there is no way to invite
into an instant that
blooms towards some
while others pass it by
until it is fixed within compartments,
a treasure box:
torn open bedroom when a string of light
strikes through curtains, objects
and their abandoned actions of disarray.
I am making assumptions right now.