Oh, how I’ve missed you,
Shining jewel of the Caribbean,
Petite isle of the eccentric.
I still remember your streets,
The way they curve up the mountains,
Mountains that you can see from the coast
Where the water rages war against
The corals and the sea wall.

I’ve seen you at your lowest,
Broken down by the winds
Of prophesies,
Your people cried blood
And sweated through your
Unrelenting days.

Oh, but the way the cosmos dressed
The night sky, clashing with your beauty.
It was almost worth all the pain and suffering.

I was thinking,
And while I was thinking,
My name wasn’t called,
I wasn’t needed like I was needed before
And how quiet it was drove me down
A dark road.

It’s midnight,
Im driving down
69 north
Towards Oklahoma
The stars won’t
come out tonight,
Maybe it’s too cold
Or too hot,
Or they are too shy,
They just won’t come out,
Leaving the sky
With a distinct
Grey hue,
To my right,
The sound of
Metal hitting metal
Follows me,
A friend maybe a foe,
A beast,
I can barely catch a silhouette
In between the trees and
The foliage,
Until we reach
The radio towers
That showers whatever
It’s on the other side
With a deep red
I’ve only seen in blood,
A train
It sounds tired,
Discouraged,
I empathize,
I wonder when will
It be bestowed the
Honor to rest
And if it’s loved,
we both
Just keep going.

It’s 7:46 Am
On a Saturday,
I’m sitting
in my car
in front
of an urgent care
that opens
around 9:00 Am,
I can feel the left
Side of my face swelling
Up as my gums bleed
Through my teeth
Creating puddles
Of iron in the back
Of my tongue,
I connect my phone
To the radio,
And play the song
That has been stuck
On my mind
For the past few months,
That and the Tylenol
Ease the pain until
They open the doors,
I walk in fast,
Almost breaking down
The glass that fills
In the windows,
The lady at the counter
Notices the bags
Underneath my eyes
From the lack of sleep,
She asks for an emergency
Contact, my face betrays
Me as my eyes widen,
While I think of what to
Say the pain comes back.

As I stand there in the isle
besides the bottles of detergent

That I entered knowingly
that you were there

As if a spotlight runs behind
your every step shining light

That evaporates the
humidity and discomfort,

I still have to pretend to be
Someone to be able to

Strike up a conversation,
It flows and shapes

Around my tongue,
That dances a tune

I wish for you to hold
Very dear,

And then I slide away
On the concrete floor

Not as dark as it used to be,
As I think to myself,

If not now,
Then when?

Vengo de Ríos
Que no explican
De donde vienen
Ni a donde irán,
Vengo de playas
Donde la arena
Vio huellas
Que rencorosas
Aguas esconden
Entre olas,
Pero allí siempre estarán,
Vengo de carreteras
Blindadas con
Árboles de Aguacates
y las guanábanas que
No caen se pudren
Entre las hojas que no
Marchitan,
Vengo del olor
Que trae el ojo
Del huracán,
Calma entre tormenta,
Una pura realidad,
Y traeré todo esto
Conmigo,
En un bulto donde
Guardo nostalgia
Y melancolía,
Tu nombre allí
También está,
Y aunque viva
En pueblo
O en ciudad,
Esa isla bendita,
Isla del encanto,
Mi borinquen,
Como huella en
Arena de una playa
Sin colonizar,
En mi corazón a
Dejado mucho que contar.

I moved a lot when I was a kid,
5 different Houses in the midst
of humid heat, and if I could
Open each door one by one
With bronze, silver and second hand
Keys, i don’t know which one
I could call home.

My first house,
Built tall in wood, a two story
Without the first floor
Or a tree house without the tree,
The curving stairs left so many,
Bruises on my legs and arms,
But still it would call to me,
I would fall asleep in other
Peoples houses and I would
Wake up, amazed at the embrace,
Of those wooden walls
And creaking floors.

I remember moving down
The street to my second home,
Deeper into the barrio,
My uncle and his friend
Carried my swing set,
And my mom walked in
Front with trails of fire adorning
Her feet, and a look in her
Eyes screamed “so one,
Help me please”

Finally, with sweat rolling
Down my chin under
The glaring sun,I notice
A Frankenstein of a house
That hid behind quenepa trees,
The fence was crooked,
The gate scraped the concrete
Floor, a hollow concrete
House with so much to tell,
But so little to show,
The gloominess and despair,
Inherited from my mom
Followed me from there on.

The third house was short lived,
How can a house full of people
Be so empty inside,
But it would smell like coffee
During the day and during the night,
With a cigarette blanket in the back,
And bbq weekends when the rain
Didn’t bother to show up,
I saw waterfalls rush my moms
Eyes on cold morning calls,
And quiet rides,
The silence was deafening,
As if it ran through the open
Windows with knifes
Trying to take us off the
Road into the river
That flowed underneath
The highway on my way to school.

I wasn’t there much in my fourth
And fifth house, time passed
Faster when I wasn’t inside,
And when I was the ceiling,
Melted into the sky,
Letting the stars shine
Through, giving me
A little taste of outside.

In between everything,
And everyone,
I didn’t realize how
Much of myself I left behind.

If I had one wish,
Just one,
It would be
To be eternal,
Immortal,
Soaking in
Life as I play
With the water
And drink
From the fountain
Of youth
That with one
Sip pulls back
My skin and
Opens my
Arteries all
While the
Forrest inside
My lungs oxygenates
And purifies
The atmosphere,
I hope I learn to
Forgive myself,
That I will be
Reborn with
Some discipline,
An undying wouldn’t
Dare be tormented
And punished,
He would love,
Unbranded,
Unconditional,
The type of love
That teaches you
How to live,
oh, to feel
That type
Of love again
In between
War and plague,
And death,
That now walks
Attached to the hip,
Of someone that
Has learned to let go.

The ground has been
Trembling all day,
The sky dark
With resentment,
Holding unto
Buckets of water,
The wind screams
And throws a tantrum
In the street,
And I can’t seem
To keep the thoughts
At bay.

My thoughts scramble
And dig and dig
Until they reach
My skull where they bump
The shovel and Grit
Their teeth.

I lay on the floor
besides my bed,
My cats wondering
what’s wrong with me,
Walking back and forth
And back and forth,
Just to end up laying on the
Floor with me
I’m trying to sleep
To forget,
How your eyes gleamed
Hurt and betrayal,
I’ll get up today
And tomorrow
And the day after that.
But on some days,
I can’t wait to lay
On the floor to think
About you one more
Time
Until the day it’ll be the last.

In late afternoons,
When the sky isn’t as
Forgotten by the bystanders
That walk the sidewalks
And the more fortunate
That drive the streets
God turns into a magnificent painter,
With oranges and blues and whites
On the blank canvas,
He lets you know how talented
He is with a brush,

I don’t believe in god,
I’m not a good Shepherd
Or the sheep.

But, do you see the color
Of the sky
When it’s the sun’s turn to sleep?

And do you see these hands?
They have loved and hurt,
They have cooked and baked
They have opened and closed doors,
They have demolished the distances
Of all that is land and sea.
yet,
They stop in between celestial change,
To observe an artist at work.

I’ll sit,
Unsatisfied In the well
In which I dug myself in,
With nothing but these hands
That I have done so much with
And the sky that while
Being turned into another museum piece,
signals me another night.

As I drive back
from Beaumont
After almost
Getting scammed,
Me an my friend
Start Laughing
Uncontrollably at
The events
that unfolded,
To our right over
The barricades
Of the highway
and behind
The Minute Maid
Stadium,
A multitude
of skyscrapers
Stand like
well dressed
Business men
Wearing the sky
Like an
elegant hat,
Suddenly
They part
Ways for
the highway,
Glaring the
Suns shine
On each blue
Tinted window
Like a wave
Frozen in place,
Waiting to
burst against
The busy
people driving
Home or
maybe to work,
So many
and so busy
That the crowd
starts to
Grow and
the car stops,
I put on some music
For the wait and
Find comfort in a
City I thought
Once cursed.

In times of discomfort,
We’ll flourish
In between shivering
Trunks and mildew.

The pollen of a new
Life will give and give
To generations to come.

And as the shadow
Of a well crafted cloud
Covers what the eye can see,
We’ll fly high above
With the sound
Of a solitary bell.

And we’ll do,
In a glorious fall
Ignited in passion
That melts the skin
And scorches the bone,
As comets and stars do.

I cherish the days
I get out of bed
Without thinking twice
About it.

Walk to the bathroom
Brush my teeth,
Feel the water upon my face.

I cherish the days
I can go
Up and down
The stairs.

Go to the kitchen
And make something
To eat.

I cherish the days
everything
has the scent
Of coconut and vanilla.

The sun rises
from the east
And sets
in the west

I cherish the days
I realize I want to live.

As the sun sets,
I see familiar
And unfamiliar cars
Driving by

People that like me
Have highs like
No other,
And lows that
They’ll never get over.

I look out into the street
One last time
As cicadas sing their blues,
I wonder who’s truly right
Or who’s terribly wrong.

Ay, despertador en las mañanas,
En taza de cerámica
Tan ancha como el cielo
O tal vez como la tierra,
Te creo entre temblequeo
Y la serenidad de una
Noche estrellada.

I find myself lost for words
Every time that I stand in front
Of you,

I can feel my eyes looking for
Yours getting disoriented along
the way, eye contact has
never been my
Strong suit,

As I see the walls close in on us,
I can feel all that I’ve been wanting
To say get stuck on the roof of my mouth,
Creating a sky with stars that burns
A hole through,

In the few years that I’ve lived,
I’ve never been a talker,
But I think of all the ways
I would tell you how
The way you walk away,
Leaves me craving that you
Would turn around and give
Me a little more of your time,
Precious, I’m lost in what
I should have said,

In the space in between your steps,
In the way your hair curls and drips
Down your shoulders putting
Down a blanket where I could lay,
I find myself caged,
Bound to the bars by ball and chain,
Wishing that these words would
Find their way to you,
To let you know how
You make me feel
On a day to day.

Sometimes
I give a hard look
At myself in the mirror,
My eyes gleaming with
Sadness that has followed
Me from down the road
And my hair all *******
So it doesn’t show how
Much it has grown

I tell myself
I want to be a poet,
Someone that writes
And moves and
Yell’s at you how gritty
Life has been lately.

But it hasn’t been all that gritty,
Or *****, or painful or-
Maybe it has.

Somewhere I read,
That a dead man
Loves the hardest,
That what only matters
Is how good you walk
Through the fire,
That let life not separate us,
And who cares about death?

I’ve come to hate and detest,
Those who hate,
But when will it be,
That I take upon
My shoulders to love.

And love is not
Like a gas stove,
But more of
A bonfire
That turns night
Into day.

So warm to the touch,
But so beautiful
To have when
It’s 1:00 am
On a cold front,
And god,
I just need
Another
cigarette.

Please,
Let me love
Again.

I’m begging.

Be it in death,
Or alive.

Be it awake
Or dreaming.

Be it through
the extinguished
Fire,
Which means
My walk hasn’t
been that great.

To the one,
That lights it
Again.

I am between
Dying and not dying.

I’m probably not
what you want.

Neither am I,
What you need.

But I will love,
The type of love
To move states,
To be alone
If it meant you
Would be coming
Through the door
Any minute now.

it will
Also be rumbling
And the ground will
Shake and
I won’t know how
To tell you how
Much I really love you.

But I will try,
I will try so hard.

To be all I am,
And all I am not.

They say death
Feels Peaceful,
Then it must feel
Like the shade
Of the branches
Of an old tree
Dancing with
The summer breeze,
Giving the sun
Enough space
To warm up
A specific spot
On my face.

I haven’t
experienced
That side
of death yet.

I’ve seen how
It hides
in the rot
Of the well
deserving,
Bringing peace
to those who
Yearn it.

I’ve seen
The cries
Of those
Who fear
It.

I sit
Underneath
The tree
Feeling
Peaceful today.

So
Maybe
Another
Day.

I want to
go right
And pick
the perennial
flowers
That cover
what the eye
can see,
I’ve seen
the Fields
of Indian blankets
And spider lilies

I think
of myself
laying Down
and resting
my eyes
As the sunset
showers me
With color
and despair.

Today
I’ll go left
instead
To see
what waits
For me there.

How boring it must be
To be able to wake up in
The morning and do
What you need to do.

I will dance around
My kitchen table
As dishes pile up.

I will lay on my bedroom
Floor as the laundry
Screams that it needs
To be done,

I would go into the bathroom
If it wasn’t for the person
In the mirror that despises
Me so much.

Oh but when I get that spark,
That little moment of clarity,
time stops,

I become a fraud and can’t write
Poems anymore,
But the way my hands move
Around the dishes,
How fast the laundry walks itself.

It must be perfect to live
Like this forever,
But oh, how boring.

I think back
To those moments
Where you can grab
The rays of sunshine
That rarely come through
The clouds of a week
Of rain.

Or the blankets feel
Like the hugs of
A past lover,
Compassionate,
Like the ever haunting
Weight of the person
You truly loved.

And the night
Serves as a companion
As you gaze up
To the stars,
Wondering if they
Ever feel the need
To gaze back.

The skeleton of the trees
have gotten their color back,
The cats play among
The fallen leafs,
All while a hand grips
And holds tight unto
My chest.

I’m waiting for the night
To show it true colors,
So I can feel at peace,
And let go.

The earth is
Dying of old age
But if it’s me,
That dies first,
Hopefully I get
To enjoy what I’ve
Enjoyed in its
Presence.

The warm and tenderness
Of unconditional love,
Or the passion behind
Nerudas words,
swim in the transparency
Of the freezing rivers
That embark their journey
On the vertebrae of that
Shackled Island
That I used to call home.

If it’s me that dies first,
Don’t let those who
Speak my name see
What I have become,
Let them remember me
For who I was,
Hollowed eyes,
From restless nights,
The incoherencies
That I speak,
The laughs that
Surround me,
Echoing until
Eternity ain’t eternal
Anymore.

When it’s me that dies first,
Take me back
to where I was born
Bury me under the sapling
Of a flamboyán tree,
Love and care as much
Maybe more than you have,
Watch me reborn, grow,
Become magnificent
Dressed in orange reds
And greens.

Finally, carve unto me
The words that I’ve written,
watch me grow old
like I did life’s ago
And forget about me.

Es tanto,
Lo que eh callado,
Muchos espacios
Entre palabras
Que bajan
Las nubes a tus
Pies para
Acolchonar el
Piso que caminas,
Y con un bulto
De rayos de sol,
Camino para
Cuando tus dias
Caigan desvelados
Y la noche mucho
Más oscura de lo normal
Esconda tu sonrisa
Entre las sombras
Y la angustia
Abrirlo y alegrarte
Con la calor de
Un sábado
En donde las
Lluvias descansan
Y los pájaros cantan
Entre la gente
Libre de un día
Más de trabajo.

Inclinado en una tarde sombría,
Entre tinieblas y la falta de calor,
Te solté como un pájaro nocturno
Y te vi volar entre las primeras
Estrellas que centellan tú llegada
Como mi alma cuando la tocastes
Por primate vez Amor mío.

Y aunque fui yo quien te solté,
Eh ido marcando con antorchas
Tu llegada inesperada.

Tengo historias que contarte,
Comida para enseñarte,
Besos que regalarte,
Callados, delirantes
Se pierden en este pueblo
En donde te amaba.

Oh mi vida,
Entre el silencio que me arropa
Y la voz algo se va muriendo,
Algo de angustia y olvido,
Algo entre las nubes y las estrellas,
Algo como la caída de un árbol.

Sin embargo, mis cuerdas vocales
Se bañan entren estas palabras fugaces,
Algo canta entre señales de humo,
Gritar, cantar, huir entre hojas
Marchitas del invierno.

Tú estás aquí, tú no huyes,
Tú me responderás hasta el último grito,
Sin embargo, alguna vez vi como corría
La tristeza debajo de las olas de tus ojos,
Y mi todo, apenas quedan gotas temblando.

Y triste y fuerte amor mío,
Que haces de repente que no llegas?

I walk by the street,
Evading the lines
On the sidewalk,
I noticed a guy
Working on his car,
The same way I’ve noticed
Him for the past 3 days,
I jump over four leafs
Clovers and open
The doors to the
Corner store,
I grab my usual,
A watermelon
Arizona,
Then I walk up
To the counter
And ask for a
Pack of camels 99,
A look of glee
Reflecting on
The glass that
Protects the
Cashier,
I walk back outside,
The sun beaming
Bright yellow
Through rain
Clouds that are starting
To dissipate,
The same guy,
Now sleeping in his car,
I wonder,
Where will it
All take us?

Across the street
From where I’m sitting on
An older blonde lady
Cries her eyes out,
Her friend or girlfriend or wife
Consoles her, making her laugh
In between tears.

I wonder what keeps
Them up at night

They won’t remember
this moment ,
Not because it’s not special
But because she seems so
Good at making her
Happy, even though
She was just
Crying herself
A puddle underneath
Her feet.

This was not
The first time.

I think to myself
I should have made her laugh
As thoughts of yesterday
Run through her mind
Ease the pain that can’t be
Eased with paper towels
And ice packs

The sky is getting darker
It looks like it’s about to rain
I should tell them to run
Back inside.

I wouldn’t want it
To ruin their night.

I started to notice the walls
In my room again,
Empty,
Painted in white,
I wonder if peace lilies
Would compliment
The agony and anguish,
Or if I sit in the middle
Of the room,
As quiet and still
As a Lotus flower,
Delirious and vacant,
Will thoughts of letting go
Pass through my nervous
system and out of my body,
I look at my finger nails,
They have come from a
Place of war and anger
And love and trials,
Where would I be with them?

I stare out my window,
Waiting for you my love,
Trying so hard to stand still,
So you recognize me
Even if I’ve grown old and wrinkled,
And my dear, please don’t cry,
As my flowers by my window wilt
Call 911 they need some help.

Please, Please don’t let them die.
Since you left,They have been my only friend
Since you left, they learned to love me
Since you left I’ve grown to love my flowers,  maybe It was wiser For them to wilt before me,
They loved me more than I loved them.

They couldn’t handle the pain of seeing me
Pass away by my window,
Waiting for you.

When you go chase after your truest desires
and feel places where there wasn't a fire before burning,
In a rage of passion,
as hot as the sun and the stars,
as bright as dawn,
and the night doesn't symbolize
sadness and depression anymore ,
and the moon isn't loneliness,
and the stars aren't laughing at me,
from above
the place they rest,

And like that
begin to transform the magic
you emit
into a breath of my soul,

breathing again,
water becomes oxygen,
i'm not drowning
in the depths of myself
Anymore.

Thanks to you,
My Love.

The way your eyes glisten
when you smile,
Remind me of the white
sand back home,
Warm to the touch,
getting washed ashore
With the reminder of foam
and one more night.

The sea rocks itself to sleep
while you talk,
Even in times of storm
you would give me peace,
The sun comes up
and comes down when you
Say the word
and can’t seem to keep up with
The way your lips curl.

The way you walk,
the way you think.
God, if there’s a god
he must have been proud
Of making you.

The sea will come for me,
drown me underneath
the weight,
tell me that
what I’m feeling is wrong
But how can I be wrong
when all of that stops when you talk.

I can’t keep up with you,
and I probably never will.
But if you gave the word,
if you told me you needed
me for a moment
I would miss an airplane
to be there for
you.

Even if I’ve seen this everywhere,
in movies
in books,
in songs.

I will never get to love you
how I want
to love
you.

And it’ll always be my fault.

I wish i could pass out
in your arms
and
wake up in your bed.

Wake up, smoke a bowl
and go back to sleep
on your sun kissed skin,
so warm to the touch.
Getting warmer as my fingers
lay thoughts and trails down your hair.

Lay on your chest
and let my hands wrap
around you,
trace the mountain range
that runs down your back.

And for one last time,
Make you happy.

I walk behind empty gas stations
And broken windows,
My palms sweaty from the heat,
I think of the polar caps
Slowly melting away.

I open the door to my apartment,
I sit down on my leather couch,
My hands are no longer sweaty
But, I am still sad.

I’m sitting in my car
Chain smoking,
It’s raining hard,
Rivers run through
The side walk
Making it a little cleaner,
Waterfalls rush down
The roof tiles,
The sound of it
hitting the ground
As thought inducing
As the nicotine
My body keeps
Asking for.

Thoughts of Her
Paint me a pretty picture.

She loved my writing,
She read all of it,
The love I had for Her
Could be felt
Through the screen,
Through the paper,
Even Through my lips
Whenever I had the courage
To tell Her.

I could see it in Her skin,
My words marching
With bayonets and
Strikingly bright
Torches that lit up
The whole room,
My hands rightfully  
Followed,
Climbing up Her legs,
Up and down Her hips,
Moving up Her back.

In days like these
The rain would be
The least of our
Problems.

It would be how much
I wanted Her..

And how much
She wanted me.

In the quiet of night,
I’ll sit near the amber
Scented candle,
I’ll stretch my hand
Over the flame that
Sits on top like a bee
Peacefully sleeping
On the petal of
A sunflower,
I’ll stir it up,
Let it sting
Until the night
Not so quiet anymore
Blows out the flame,
Seeing it dance before
It becomes absence
And pollen.

Please gods, help me get up
Today it’s one of those days
When I just want to lay all day
Hide in between the sheets
Fight monsters in my dreams
They are nicer.

I believe there’s good things,
I believe in breathtaking moments,
I believe in the times
where the stars look just right,
I believe there’s good in people,
Even if the bad stands out,

I believe there’s bad things,
I believe in nights
where it’s a little too dark,
I believe there’s times where
You believe you are playing chess
With life, and suddenly,
there’s no one playing with you,
And check mate seems to be 2 moves away

I believe that with happiness, comes sadness.
I believe that with rage, comes peace.
I believe that with lies, comes the truth.

I sit here with a moving clock
to my left waiting to be stopped,
waiting for life to sit down,
and finish what it started.

I believe in Good and bad,
I believe there’s a beginning,
But I’m scared there’s no end.

I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.

Lately it feels wrong to write,
It feels like there’s not enough time
For what I’m trying to do,
For what I’m trying to say,

I feel trapped in a room
That recollects memories
Like a homeless man
Collects pennies and dimes
And blesses the people who
Give it to him.

Instead I get summer rains,
Days passing by,
A roof over my head,
And maybe, just maybe,
I’ll get blessed with a wonderful day
Where nothing matters,
Not even the rain,
Nor these invasive thoughts
That go knocking at my door.

I open the door to say hi,
They always lead with smiles
And open arms,
This time they tell me to let my car deform itself around a tree,
To hug it and never let it go.

But it’s one of those days I don’t care
About what they say,
So they left leaving a little pamphlet behind.

I see myself
Tumbling down
The hill once more,
The grass scratches
My back and arms
rocks cover themselves
As I come rolling
Past them,
Hitting every last one,
I cry and plead
for forgiveness,
I ask god for time
And time again
I ask for a glimpse
Of the garden
On the other side,
I bury my nails
Into the skin of the earth
I crawl past the rain,
I crawl past the heat,
The undying days
And remorseful nights,
my heart starts to pound
As the smell of jasmines
Mists down the peak,
The ground crumbles.
And I see myself
tumbling down
To silence once again.

i'm on my way
towards thinking of you

As I start to notice that
The smell of the flowers

That cover the fields
Have found their way

Into my car,
It lays in my passenger seat,

Feet on the dashboard
All while enjoying

The music that
Shuffles through

The speakers,
I focus on the road ahead,

But every once in while,
I get distracted by

The greenery of the
Mountain range that sits

Idle on the horizon,
Cold coffee

And cigarettes fill
My stomach,

I flinch and check
The back seat

Where my heart has been
Buckled by lock and chain,

A sigh of relief leaves
My body and into

The atmosphere,
Turning the day into night,

Giving me a new scenery,
With bright blue stars

That shine their light
Upon the street,

Showing me the way,
Suddenly a welcome to

Sign with your name on
It materializes in front

Of the head lights,
I stop at the next

Gas station,
I look up to

The spotlight that keeps
The shadows away,

And I wonder how
Bad can it actually be

To be happy.

“It’s in the water”
They say,
“It’s in the cigarettes”
The yell,
“It’s in the food”
They proclaim.

Only if they knew,
That the earth
Sings a tune
That tells my feet
To move.
And that it’s
Truly in the everlasting
Silence that accompanies it.

When I used to think
About my dad,
Not much came up,
But I remember
Getting excited,
Every time my mom
Picked up the phone
And it was my him,
On the other line,
Asking when he
Can pick me up,
Scheming for
A good time

It felt almost like
A school trip,
On those yellow
Trucks without
Ac but a stereo
System that would
Shake the windows
Of the new houses
I get to see.

Always an adventure,
Always something new
To experience,
Always good.

It’s as if the bad
Was concealed
Behind the curtain
That just closed up
The actors of a
Very corny drama,

It was hard to come
To him in times of need,
Always working,
Always busy,
Always in love,
Always living a life,

But lately,
He has been helping
Me kick stones out
Of my path.

“Necesitas algo”

“Estás bien mi niño””

“Si tú eres mi hijo,
Esto es lo que va pasar”

If you are my son,
He says.

I fall down from exhaustion,
And accept his apology.