I have a small bed
I lie in my little bed tonight
I don’t need a bigger bed because there is no second body to occupy the extra space
Extra sheets are necessary because there is no second body to warm my own
If I had a lover in my bed, our legs would intertwine and our arms would wrap around each other.
If I had a lover in my bed, the lonely, quiet night wouldn’t hear my thoughts…
But the noise of my voice and her voice, and little sounds that we make when our bodies clasp.
But the night is lonely, and it is cold, and my bed is still small.

Yet, I lie on the edge of this little bed, and behind me there lies empty space.
Does my mattress hear nothing but my thoughts, and feel nothing but my shaking body,
That it dares to make that little space for another?
It is enough space for a lover, yet there is no weight—only empty space.

My head, only owner of my thoughts, rests upon the pillow that has only felt a warm spot at a time
There is little that my eyes can see as I stare into nothingness, only darkness
Scattered light that penetrates from tiny holes of window curtains fades within the blackness
Blackness?
My eyes close and no one whispering behind my ear, only metal springs that my ears can hear
I am scared, but my arms and ribs tremble not of fear but of solitude,
A solitude that will crawl up in my bed in the middle of the night
Cold and figureless, ******* up little by little the remnants of my life
And yet, this bed doesn’t fear, for it waits for the second warm spot on the pillow.
Perhaps my dreams deceive it, but can it not see that they are but figments of the mind?
Perhaps I’ve deceived it, when it hears my thoughts on these cold, solitary nights.

Now, no light can penetrate these lids, for they’ve been seduced by midnight sleep
No second to wrap around, only solitude will intertwine
Now, no blankets can warm this back, for the warm lover hands never came
And so, I can only lie and put my thoughts to rest in my cold, lonely, little bed…

One morning, when the sun comes up
I will see it shine above the valleys of that city
Upon that city that once rose atop the lake
One fine morning, the people will cease murdering each other
No ammunition sounds will reach the ear, and no more gunpowder in the air
No more tears of blood from open wounds
And no more human puzzles to decipher
One morning, when the sun comes up
It will shine its rays upon the missing
Rays that they will follow home,
Where they’ll be greeted with marigolds
Below the mountains, I will see flower gardens  
Full of calla lilies and flower pickers carrying them
That morning, when the sun won’t forget to shine from open skies,
My compatriots will play ‘Pretty Little Sky”
All will sing, and none will cry, because the sun will shine
And bathe away sorrows of the past.

One day I came across the most beautiful scenery one has ever found.
It was paradise.
I contemplated it for hours, before setting off to buy a camera so that I could capture this beauty.
Imagine what the world would say about it, how much they would love it!
Oh, just beautiful!
In the store, searching for the camera I met a lady, we went out to eat, and lived together for the rest of our lives.

When in the night you hear the dogs whine or howl
Know that is it for my heart that they whine with melancholy  
Tell me you can sense it too, the soul leaving my dying heart.
Tell me you can hear it too, a beat less every second.
My dear lady, what is a heart without a soul if neither has your love?
I love you in a profound way, deep within every one of my veins
And arteries that hug my heart.
But the distance that sets our souls apart is what kills my heart.
Every morning and every night my soul yearns to mingle with the purity of yours.
I have tried to stop it, but it seeks your heart and soul more than my own.
One of these days, perhaps in the night, when it can’t take it anymore,
It will leave my heart to join yours,
But at the same time my heart will stop beating.
That day will be the happiest day and the saddest day—
My soul will join yours, but no longer will I breath in the aroma of your wavy hair
No longer will I be able to kiss your sweet and tender lips
My dark eyes won’t ever meet the sight of your colorful eyes.
But I ask of you one last favor.
When my soul carrying my love comes knocking at your door, do not reject it.
Take its humble love that has grown all this time as my own.
Let not the dogs cry
Don’t let them howl at the moon
But what else will they do but to be saddened by my agony of not being close to you
Give my soul and the dogs a little comfort.
Accept it, don’t reject it, else the only ones to bark for that grand love will be the dogs,
For I will be long gone, waiting for eternity till I can be together with you.
And if this humble love is not sufficient to join your person, and you shall reject it
Do not allow the poor creatures to see my soul rise to the Moon’s *****,
She who witnessed the day I met you, the nights we spent apart, and my grand love for you,
She will comfort the poor soul, but who will comfort those poor howling, whining dogs?
Please, give them peace, so that the melancholy sounds may cease.

It is seven or eight and I sit here on this porch that wasn’t before.
In the distant horizon the sun is putting on its mantle, its bed sheet.
And here, they run in front of me,
A boy of seven and his friends and others, all in elementary.
They go from north to south and sometimes west.
The trailer that I’ve lived in sits where the downhill road becomes leveled.
Yesterday I was nine through thirteen when I saw a lady near the place where I sit today.
Her eyes were golden, like gold fish, like the golden sunset reflected on the water at the end of the horizon.
The kids on their bikes evade the *** holes on the road as they come downhill speeding up.
Some go straight to where I can’t see them
Others turn right, to the road that ends in front of a little forest, just below the sun.
I’ve seen this before, it was yesterday.
I didn’t remember, but today I remembered.
Is the kid of seven who looks at me, seeing, feeling what I felt yesterday?
Is this what she felt by seeing what I see today?
The kids sweaty and blushing from the heat, smiling, surrounded by old trailers on the streets of Fairlane, will they ever leave this place, or will they be like us?
The boy smiles and waves hi to me.
In his eyes I can see what I saw yesterday.
The person in his eyes nods gently with watered eyes.
I hope he leaves.