I sit down,
Near the flame
Riddled coals
On top of a box
That’s made
to cook pernil,
My dad opens it
For the 100th time,
To show me how
it’s going,
Excited,
This is the first time
They have done this
Since they moved to
This little town
Of broken arrow
Oklahoma,
He hands me a beer,
Sits down and tells me
Of past heartbreaks,
Even the ones before and
After my mother,
That I should
Stop with the
cigarettes,
Lectures,
I sit and listen,
With a new perspective,
Skinnier than I was last time
I was here,
With how good the food is
I might leave with the pounds
That shaded in the shirts
That I wear,
My little brother,
Playing the piano
He got for Christmas,
Wearing a grinch shirt,
My uncle comes in,
Sits down and talks about
His time with my great grandfather,
I find myself happy,
Listening
Invested,
In times of loss,
Of regret,
Reborn,
A Red Baron,
Among the ashes
Of what once was.

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’ll always be you,
The same way
It’ll always be me.

In an ideal future,
I’ll have a
House near a river
By the mountains
Of Puerto Rico,
My own cafe
With amazing books
And ever greater
Baked goods,
But the lines
Get blurred
When I think of you.

You,
Angel of the fortunate,
Breathtaking and majestic,
Wearing beautifully woven
Sun kissed robes
That follow you
Like your shadow does,
Only the sweet scent
Of peaches and cream
Shapes you,
Divine as a Greek sculpture,
With a smile that stuns
And gives photographic memory
To whoever has held a
Four cloverleaf before.

I’ll hold your hand,
Walk down the path
Behind what we
Would call our home,
Suddenly the silence
Start to get deafened
By the sound of rushing
Water and leafs that
While dancing with
The breeze crumble
In your admiration.

As we sit on
Moonlight showered
Mossy stones,
I’ll find out,
I can’t seem to
Remember your name.
And while  the water
doesn't touch my feet,
ill get up to keep walking
until my nervous system
gives out and the burning stops
or I find you,
Whoever you are.
To show me how cold the water can be.

Please say my name
and you will remember me again.
I don't want you
to be far from me
like children who are starting
to grow up and forget
their little memories
of running away
from the falling rain
like adults.

Once again
I stand still
And not like
a tree,
Or a parrot
through
The eyes of
an ocelot
Or eternity,
Or prophecy,
I am but
the minuscule man.
I am Man,
Not the moon,
Celestial stone,
In love,
Amid whiteness.
Or the stars
Twilight thieves,
Sparkled fire,
Fluttering with
The wind.
I don’t
understand
What the
wind says,
So I let it talk
Among the branches,
I can hear it through
My open door,
Invasive,
Running through
My living room,
Through wood
And memories,
Bridges burned,
I close my door,
A black hole,
A deep minute
In silence,
Misery,
Like moldy bread
On the table,
Overwhelmed
With grief,
So quite,
Like loss
And agony
And ***** water.
But everything changes,
The night passes,
A second,
A minute,
A year,
And everything changes,
Rye grass starts to grow
Around my toes
And below my feet,
Life,
Tenderness,
Inevitable,
Beautiful and warm
Like laughing
Or running,
Or drinking coffee.

we never put lampshades
on all the lights in this house
I'm never sure if we meant
to stay or if we we're always
looking for a way out