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Freddy Escamilla Sep 2020
I sit beside you,
two sets of eyes glued to a splotched canvas before us.
I in the driver’s seat,
you in your captain’s chair.
I’m asking all these questions, but,
are you really there? I worry
when I look at you, and the
shock is painted on my face.
Others pass me under the moonlight and
tell me to leave this place.
They say, “you better get outta here, and get
while the getting is good.
This job will turn you inside out
and make you misunderstood.”

I sit beside you,
two sets of eyes glued to the canvas, as if it will restore us.
A cassette tape is forced through my brain,
the night’s events replayed.
My finger tap upon the glass,
and your hair is frayed.
Your figure in the captain’s chair,
with skin as cold as tin.
Which one of these got to your bones,
which one did you in?
Do you remember sights and sounds,
you wish you could forget?
Is that look upon your eye,
one of anger or regret?
Trauma is etched into your skin
like cracks on a weary canyon rock.
I need to know how you turned to you
if only you could talk.

I sit beside you.
Our eyes are glued to the splotched canvas, that which holds nothing
for us.
I work in an emergency ambulance. I was green, enthusiastic and filled with a sense of altruistic fulfillment. This attitude later became confusion and concern that I made a mistake as I continuously met people who seemed to have stared into that proverbial abyss for too long and became emotionally corrupted by it.
Freddy Escamilla Sep 2020
Ruby Red, Ruby Red
sweet voice in the cab,
slowly land as my fingers unfold;
freeing the steering wheel.
It’s like I’m in motion,
to catch the rainbow bird that beats its wings
to the song that you once had showed me.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
your smooth velvet lipstick
is pressed upon my wildest dreams,
and has painted me pink
.
Tender breath, sensual mist,
dancing upon heavy eyelids
warmed up and fluttering towards the sun,
that’s rising through my windshield.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
the city, it's called again.
I’ll tell you all about it,
if you visit me again.
Ruby Red, Ruby Red,
won’t you stay a little longer?
The show is better with you pulling the strings
upon my driftwood mind.
Ruby Red in my head,
you’re a sweet lost fabrication
placed at the center of my table
by the watching stars.
Ruby Red you’re in my head
You are the color of passion;
gone when the morning sun
breaks past the horizon.

— The End —