sinful man
bathing in the jezebel juice
muffled sounds of pounding fists on flesh
and pooling blood beneath it
to be covered up by skin-toned cream
he used to love
but downs brown bottles and spends
his nights near corner stores..
wretched 40s in paper bags that don’t mask a thing
comes home when he feels like
smelling of Dulce, the lady from the corner,
and commands a room
liquified demons
for they have him wrapped around the neck
silently begging for his life back
liver failing and heart with it
a single tear running down his face
only thinking of his mother
he blames his father
he wasn’t supposed to be this way
he was supposed to be successful and happy in his fathers eyes
black army man that never took no for an answer
6’3” army man
gave him siblings growing up all the same block
how considerate
all the neighbors kids on grave street were blood
ock legs and broad shouldered army man
when he came around the women on the block kept quiet
as if all sworn to secrecy of their forbidden affairs
he uses his faulty upbringing as an excuse to be the failure that he is
serious army man
never owed money to anybody
and never said excuse me during passing because
just with one look you knew
he was always going to go off unapologetically

she was unhappy really-
she wanted so much more
i became acquainted with her at a house party
never impressed
always ready to go- i had conversed with her
until she begged me to take her away from that dreadful place.

and i did just so,
your honor.

I want to learn a new language that I can forget you in.

you treasured me
thanked me for my presence
it seemed as if you loved me for an instant
that little instant
that noxious side eye and smirk
that ray of light in a tree riddened forest
that first flower of spring opening up
bees salivating from a distance
i was so grateful to have met you

but you’re no longer my peace
and i continue to rekindle my love
with a version of you

just to have that again..
i don’t know what i’d do..

I asked a simple question

“Can I die for you?”

I received a long and hard stare back

“No.”

I thought about that answer for a long time with the goal of forgiving you. Forgiving you for not loving me, never loving me. Forgiving myself for letting my love grow too much. I wanted to die for you, so you could live. But love doesn’t work like that, I guessed.

“Why?”

His reply;

“I’m already dead.”

my hair absorbed the humidity like the mop that dips into the watered down Fabuloso on sunday mornings
slaps on the floor and rubs back and forth on wood
i looked at the ground after stares from the first five grown men i passed
i felt dizzy chasing after meaning
i walked until i pictured myself downtown
peering in at sweet pork spots
and bakery corner shops with the occasional
we buy gold stands and ads for tutoring nearby
feel the cobblestone of the streets beneath my feet
making it hard to walk in an aligned manner
i felt my face flush of coolness
i step to the side holding on to one of the vans
that have fake coach and yves saint laurent in the trunk
look at my hands  
skin translucent veins undeniably apparent
wipe my eye and i’m back
on the ave
on a saturday morning
strolling
formulating my escape

girls that wear purses for book bags to school
are the superior race in the hallways
and don’t you dare bump them !
they have a significant gait that commands
attention
they are
the sugar clumps in abuelas café that
she grinds with her spoon
and consumes with her soda crackers