February 26, 2008

Running, running, running in Brooklyn
pack of cigarettes in my hand
I stumble
side to side
the last glass of wine hits me
I’m free
ready to kiki on the corner
sustenance meets me there


I am compelled to return from the obscure.

This past year has been shit–but it’s going to fertilize the flowers. And in their blooms, colors of my memories shall sobrevivir.

I miss my grandmothers. They were my histories. I yearn again to feel my father’s laughter upon my ears. He was my heart.

This is the time to return–like a refugee from the war on terror, I’m here: kicking and screaming.

Let’s start this shit.


One Response to “Volver”

  1. the shit has already been started. coma a más mi’hijo. tienes muy buena digestión.

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