Analyze all you want,
dear brain,
your memories are warped.
I forgot about the pain infringed upon me.
Until the last drop of red propels through me,
I will love,
persistently.
I am stronger.
Elevator Irony 06/25/2010
Three friends walk into an elevator.
Conversation pauses.
Two strangers have walked in with them.
Five people in an elevator.
A dog whimpering sounds catches them by surprise.
Moaning fills the elevator air.
The awkward sound comes from a young man.
We are understanding humans,
retardation is not funny.
That morning, I painted my nails.
My skills of painting nails are on same level of a five year old.
I wave the mess I made of my nails, in my friends face.
We both laugh and
she calls me retarded.
It’s hard not to laugh.
The Warmth 06/01/2010
The burn of your squint won’t let you make out
what lies ahead.
Flames of your desire,
will not be put out.
Cannot be put out.
The sun will burn you happy.
Smolder you happy.
Don’t ever give up on the brilliant light.
And when the skies fade to black,
keep chasing the sun.
Julian 05/11/2010
I wonder what goes on
behind your big brown eyes,
mischievous but so warm.
Hard days work,
but its all good.
I have my baby boys smile.
Your laughter makes home,
home.
My feelings for the Ocean 04/16/2010
Thumping against
wet sand,
clouds feel my smile.
No longer
afraid.
I was traumatized
from your drown.
Rejected you for so long,
but you embrace me
every time.
After all those years
I damned you.
Walking towards you,
leave my prints
behind,
the wind
gently
plays with my hair.
And I
watch you,
wash away
my path.
You feel like
home.
La Hispañola 04/06/2010
American girl,
but her parents
come from an island
floating in the Caribbean.
Far away
from the native lands
but the roots
have infiltrated the veins.
The mouth waters from the smell of
platano maduros.
Logic doesn’t matter,
the answer is in
the revelations of her sueños.
The intuition that guided
her abuela,
her mama
now her,
psychic at times.
Trained herself to be
calm & collected
but
shake her up
and the
Latin blood fizzles inside.
Bag Lady 03/30/2010
Her nose wrinkles when she smiles,
her black eyes watch your tired face,
lips as soft as organic cotton,
she murmurs used words,
“I love you.”
There was a time before her smile lit up your eyes,
there was a time before you.
All the things that got her to this point
she carries them with her.
Look at the marks on her hands, the load is that heavy.
Tired of pulling, she smiles,
and asks, “Don’t you love me back?”
And you tell her that you do.
Tell her that you wish she’d
leave the bags behind,
that the existence of her past is
not enough to love her entirely.
Tell her that her smile is not enough.
