Piggly Wiggly sleeps,
and snores,
behind,
closed doors,
while someone is cleaning a door,
jam,
others are questioning where they are,
a poet,
reads words in a bathroom stall,
someone down the hall,
whisper shouting in another,
stall,
asks, "What's the point to all this?"
rehab in winter,
rehab in fall,
a **** and a smile,
but a reminder,
you get in what you get out,
sixty one days sober,
breaking the record every day,
the poet flushes away,
is internal frown,
complaining companions move onto the windows,
piggly wiggly dreams aboot,
bacon and ****,
another record,
the poet asks his higher power,
please let it last,
one day at a time,
everyone stops,
sloppy joes & cigarettes,
for,
lunch.

Being loved,
when no one asked,
is a weird feeling.

Sponsor numbers,
and Ibprophen,
reading,
feeding,
what's for breakfast tomorrow?
Hope with a guilty side,
Chinaski hidden in a,
recovery library,
words to the poet,
a secret vice,
are nostalgic tremors,
a giggle for the unknown,
terminal uniqueness,
and a desk map with no ****,
pray for the piggly wiggly roommate,
the hope overpowers the guilt,
and the coffee makes,
me smile,
a good day,
a better,
turn,
click.

I'd love to visit Charleston someday
She's forever on my mind
I'd tour her like a Hershey bar on the front -
porch
One little square at a time ...

He saw me in a coffee shop,
He liked what he saw in one go,
He found about me some more,
He started me to adore.
He told his mum about his feelings,
Asian women! With joy she started singing,
Two days later he came to see me,
He was smart,educated and handsome,
More, he did'nt  want any dowry,
awesome,
My parents asked my view.
I had liked him on the spot
I said,"Yes, why not."
I admired him a lot,
The strings of our heart played the same tune,
Love would follow soon.
It did,
As soon as we were married,
Our love blossomed from a tiny bud into an beautiful flower.
With children a flower became a cluster.
But, the exotic fragrance is still there.
That is arranged marriage,
Each passing year our love strengthened  with age.

Crecí rodeado de leyendas urbanas
De pesadillas y demonios,
de mundos imaginarios que aun no
he logrado describir.

Me he ahogado con fantasmas
he charlado con los monstruos
más temibles de mi autoria
y me he nombrado creador
de lo oscuro y solitario.

Soy, soy y soy...
pero hoy me he lanzado
a la luz para contar historias
de un universo nacido
de la mente de un niño
callado.
Me he convencido de que
mis monstruos son más
humanos que gente que conozco.

También me he dado cuenta
de que la vida esta para aprender,
sentir y disfrutarla, pero más importante aun
compartirla atrás vez de letras, imagines y charlas.

Y que mis fantasías y las de los demás no podrían
haber sido más que experiencias y versiones alternas
de nuestra verdad.