Returning to my diner.

Why?

Morsels and bits of food here and there, under the tables and chairs. 

Wine–red wine you prefer?

Red, hungry wolves

You are not scaring my diners.

See how they sit and enjoy your dinner?

Red, hungry wolves, are you letting them fatten up

For your last dinner?

Wine-red blood, I’m sure.

but it served a use. it's a use difficult to let go

It celebrates failures. It celebrates fears.

It celebrates the cycles of failures created by fears dug willingly by your own hands but without your direct approval. 

But there is no denying, it is by your own hand. 

An ode, off key, to the disappointment and resentment building and growing at the heel but can't seem to sew or patch up for the betterment of moving forward. 

Frugal. Stubborn. Sentimental. Wholesomely disgusting. 

It is a box we shove ourselves into with the hands of others and grow too tired to resist. 

Different views and stories placed upon the self.

It is gray. it is holey. It is divine. it is falling apart.

It is the sadness holding on but never hitting concrete.

still holding on

It’s nothing more than a joke. A bit done with a commitment for life. A marriage to dust, dirt, and constant disappointment.

It’s a joke. Easy to slip on. Easy to slip out. 

It’s a joke. 

A brown tank, but the backseats fold into a comfy bed

We are stretched out

Sleeping bags and books

A fuzzy, blue blanket, which

Becomes Amoeba Man 

When my brother hides underneath

And tries to grab us

We are heading west on I-10

Towards El Paso and Las Cruces,

Where my grandparents live

Day one of our journeys

What did God’s voice sound like?

When he breathed the words into you

To write?

To put into the

Living

Breathing

Word

A monkey?

A panther/Black cat?

Girl, it’s too much work to understand you!

And what is with the mariposas?

Vines? and a raven necklace!

And always, always

Your serious, unaltered face.

Eyes with a million thoughts

Hiding under the bushel brows of 

A distant ancestor

What were you trying to say?

Trying to prove?

I had eyebrows like that once

I don’t miss them

Maybe you were trying not to draw attention

Be something more than

A pretty face

Refusing to change for men’s ideal of beauty

Being true to yourself

And i can admire that

But

Really chick, what did you sacrifice for Dali?

I don’t mean to be shallow but

A little wax and maybe

You’d have had a man

That would appreciate all of you

Art, brains, beauty

And not have cheated…

There is a hair in my soup;

I waited 30 minutes for a table;

The service is awful;

I’ll take my business elsewhere.

My free bread is gone and I need more;

Where is my entree?

Fingers snapped: Can I get the check?

I need the name of your manager;

You’ll be seeing this on yelp.

As the waiter approaches the table,

He thinks, “Great, another complaint,”

But says under his breath “ How can I help you?”

A kind woman says, “thank you. The food and dining experience has been great.”

Just like that, they are human and there is hope again in the world.