Uno mas,
or "one more."
One more stop until we're home
or close enough to call it so.
One more stop until we're close enough
to driving our car and picking up ***,
roadside.
To grabbing a coffee
to restart the night.
To talking 'till that predawn light
that reminds us why
we fell in love
the first time.
Uno
mas.

Last night I dreamed the world was ending
Screams of fear only broke the glass that kept our lives together
Everyone was falling through the sky into nothing
It was a beautiful day
And I reached for you
Even though it was all over for us
I needed you still
I couldn't quite stretch
Far enough before the sky cracked
And we were falling
And my tears dried in the wind
And you were smiling
Telling me even now
That it was going to be okay

What would I do if my family died?
I would stroll by the beach
and let waves swallow me.
I would sit by the jagged rocks
and wish for the werewolves,
mermaids, vampires to come to
my rescue.
I would take a hand full of the rough sand
and let my tears transform it into a mould.
I would build a sandcastle and let the water
cut through,
exactly like the tears rolling down my freckled face.
Then I would jump from the cliff,
the dive funerial, graceful and almost glad
like the splash of water that hit the rocks
one last time.

Every day
on the orange-line metro, she would wait;
wait with her lovely mahogany harp
and it's worn, threadbare case
for a dollar;
a piece of tangible hope,
as delicate strings of rhythm
filled her ears
and controlled her senses.
What people couldn't see
was the way her soul poured itself
into each pluck of a fragile string,
and how her eyes remained
fluttering,
as the entire symphony
harmonized around her insignificant tune;
vibrating through her chest;
booming through the auditorium,
which was really just an orange-line metro
and a lone woman with a lovely mahogany harp.
So the empty case came as no surprise
to anyone
except her,
as she shed a single warm tear
and stepped off the train into the cold, bitter night.