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BC Jaime Mar 2018
I remember gravel
crunching under feet,
sun beating down
a sea of heads. At a booth,
we were offered advice on cleaning
products and chamois.
We walked passed fake gardens,
pet prized-winning sheep,
soared overhead on the sky tram.

My parents bought me a pickle
from the pickle man. Large,
juicy, plump, thick, delectable...
My tiny hands wrapped around it;
my lips ******* delicious juice,
nibbling meaty flesh.
When they’d take it away,
I’d throw a fit; cry.
They should’ve known then.
© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
the cats do not purr
the dogs have fallen silent...
cell phone RINGS --its you!
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
the night brings
with its glittering sky
cricket choir
lightning bug

The light breeze
wakes the sleeping palm
the orb weaver
spins its lacework

A cat sits
tail wrapped
sniffing the dew
of the night-blooming jasmine

In the center
eyes closed
deep breath in
slow breath out

legs one under
the other hands
to the side
eye open

He soars above
the chirping chorus
the solitary cat
above the weaver

Over the palm
with the lightning bug
the scent of jasmine
ignites his aura

He is one
with the stars
He soars
Free
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @b.c.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
(for my brother, Jason)

I couldn't ride a bike until I was eleven.
It was then my little brother hijacked
my dusty BMX, racing down the hill.
Not to be out done, I learned to ride
soon after.

I've been able to ride a bike
since I was eleven. Seeing my brother
race down the hill like effortless lightning, gave me the courage to ride
like him...like wind.
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @b.c.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
he was a tambourine
cling-cling-cling
competing with the guitar,
strrr...uuummm...
bass,
puuu-waaa...ssh!
and drums
BO...o...Om!

In the orchestra
he was the conductor's baton
swish-swish-swish
drowned out by the oboe
BRRR...Rooo...
cello
teener-neener-teen
violin
Neee-nah­-neee...nahnahnah-nee...

When he went solo
he was a harp
bling-bling-bling-bling...
graceful, delicate
tling-ling-ring-bling...
his strings plucked
pling-pling-pling-pling
by angels
© BC Jaime 2018 || IG: @b.c.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
was all he needed to
make the sickness go away
two a day
two times three is six
large white monstrosities
made his muscles burn
back ache, legs cramp

side effects took hold
and anxiety
waiting for blood tests
and bowel movements
his fingernails grew
as did his beard
he tossed, turned
insomnia invaded

he woke up on day four
looked in the mirror
peeling around his eyes
tingling on the skin
discomfort in the gut
he massaged his belly
six little pills
and not one had worked
© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @b.c.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
BC Jaime Mar 2018
I went to your house today.
You remembered I was coming.
And to take a bath. And eat.
You told me a story that happened
yesterday, not seventy-five years ago.
You didn’t ask the same question
thirteen times. There was no argument
about prescription drugs or bloodwork.
You didn’t slam the door.
But, of course, none of that happened.
How could it?
You are here and
you are
gone.


[Note: This poem was originally published in Cadence Collective's anthology Then & Now: Conversations With Old Friends, available for purchase here: https://sadiegirlpress.com/2015/11/04/then-now-conversations-with-old-friends/]
© BC Jaime 2014 || IG: @B.C.Jaime

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
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