friendship

The Royal Arch

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

i can run up this hill
(it is more like a mountain)
i’ll take my years-old Adidas
and pound my way, breathless,
till i see that rock formation

sweat streams from my pores
and i snatch glances back at you
we might as well go all the way now
i point out, once we see the
.23 miles left sign at the top of the pass

you must rest, drink, and i gather in
the view of the rock-steps,
the city of my dreams,
and your sweat/cologne scent
while i wait for you

the last stretch, trail hidden
by a trickling waterfall
amongst rocks so steep we must
use the strength of our palms to pull,
is always the hardest

there it is though…
the arch that has rested above my world
for all of my life,
and without this beautiful day,
these strenuous steps,
without you, i would have missed it

Threw, Through

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

we all know the words he angrily threw
were as sore as the punches he received
the same bitter words that he learned through you
yet through his blameless smile we were deceived

now you take your piece of technology
and throw blatant bitterness back at us
refuse to accept our apology
instead (like your child) make a giant fuss

you be the helicopter, us the grass
shove your way across the unknown landscape
bulldoze through until we are on our ass
force us into the place we can’t escape

someday you will rise up and see the view
of the ungrateful scene you choose to make
you will perceive the punches threw and through
we’ll be the ones who choose you to forsake

The Runway of His Dreams

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we have left the pretty pink bar,
beauty slipping from sky in silent flakes.
the roads are not icy yet,
but moist in anticipation:
the wipers push away drops
(we have no possibility of sliding)

i watch the silent storm
move into my city,
remembering him in eighth grade,
so tiny and cute,
turning around in social studies
and making fun of the teacher

he is not here,
but rides along the slick streets
inside my mind as i pull back
the cautious, modest man he has become,
a beauty in the Beauty Bar
with his grace and patience,
more perfect than any dress
he could ever create
for the runway of his dreams.

Midday

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i carried three coffees
into work.
it was midday.
i had to walk around front,
give the guard a sheepish grin
(did he know i didn’t sign out,
that i just drove sixty miles
to drop off a test? did it matter?)
snow came down in flustered flurries,
sticky and wet on grimy windshield,
not enough to slow me down or make me smile

i was rushed and i was right
as i stood waiting
for incompetency to finish
erasing errant bubbles on
directions she didn’t listen to

i placed the drinks on desks,
was handed back tearful smiles
that carried my squeaky heels
down the hallway
to the next moment of time
that would not be mine,
that would never be mine,
and it didn’t matter–
i’d made one small part of the day
a bit more bearable.

(Parenthetical)

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

i don’t want a poem with pushed out words,
one that couldn’t capture the heated moment
of tears she keeps at the corners of her eyes,
a poem that pushes out unbelonging rhymes,
one that couldn’t draw a picture
of her head in my lap,
her sorrow seeping into my knees,
one that will tell me
(teacher’s note signed)
that my daughter has moved
from above average to average

i don’t want a poem
with pushed out thoughts
to taper my emotions back behind me
like my on-fire muscles during workouts,
riding up my back like a hot rope
that i will never pull tight enough

i want a poem like the songs i sing
(out of tune)
my own tears falling willingly
in the dark hours of morning
as i belt out lyrics
with the best of them,
my shaky voice
everything that is
inside and outside of me

i want a poem with well-formed words,
one that will sing to my soul,
make me remember this day
because it is like any other day
(it is unlike any other day)
i will only have it once,
and i want to grab that poem,
squeeze it in my palm,
and suck the bloody juice
until i can taste the truth
of the world found in imperfect poetry

Leftover Remnants of Gratitude

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they are back:
our table engulfs
the full-bodied laughter
whose absence has lingered
like an invisible spirit

now i smile,
my heart full,
my tear-stained,
panic-pedaled drive
to the airport
all but forgotten

their words creep across
the bottle of wine,
the stuffing, turkey,
leftover remnants of gratitude,
and rest inside me.

i have ached all day,
all the long weekend,
for the vitality
i never knew existed
until they stepped off the plane
in their Abercrombie
and winter boots (in July),
blonde and dark,
a perfect mixture of beauty.

if only their exuberance
could fill all the empty places
in the lives that surround me,
the sadness that seeps into our souls
(is this an American epidemic?),
that keeps us from living the lives
we were promised we could live.

we all need to switch pajamas,
race down the hallway of the hotel,
trip and rug-burn our palms,
and head drunkenly towards the sex shop.
when we come home?
we will laugh until we cry,
we will remember that we can
live the lives we were promised to live.

Estamos Bien

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

mañana tenemos el
Acción de Día de Gracias tercera

he stands in an airport
with laughter at the back of his voice,
the emotion so close to tears
that they sit waiting
on the edges of my lids

estamos bien.
tenemos una avión mañana por la mañana

because we are all well
with them in our midst–
so un-American to be grateful
for a night longer,
a missed flight,
a smile that we’ve all tucked away
inside ourselves
(that he fishes out
as easily as catching
tadpoles on a hot June day)

Thanksgiving dos,
we sit and share thanks:
one of the four girls
mentions her extra parents
(the highlight of the evening)

i bring forth my Spaniards
(absent)
but with an ever-present influence
on every thought i have,
on every emotion that has crossed my heart
in the four short months
that i have made them mine

Isabella gives me the look
as if i could forget
the reason we are all gathered,
for without these four girls,
none of this happiness
could float in the room
carrying the
feliz día de los padres
mylar balloon
up to the ceiling,
zhuzhu pet attached,
miracle in place
(can you see it?)

and the Spaniards?
they would live somewhere else,
and our surrealistic vision
of tomorrow
would be so.
real.
so.
unimaginative.

instead?
i hear him laugh
about fumando el toro,
the night in the airport
and our third,
and final,
Thanksgiving meal.

Golden Raindrops

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

golden tinged with age
they fall like raindrops
onto the street
a carpet of conformity
a song for the season
i remember that day
the tiny yellow bus
your spirally hair
and the leaves leaves leaves
circling a halo of beauty
that we couldn’t capture then
nor now

i want to gather my golden raindrops
be fifteen again
when I could suck in
the marrow of life with no tomorrow

instead it is a passing moment
a portion of a chaotic drive
the street littered
with the beauty you saw better than me
the pain poking out
in mini tornadoes of silent sound
a day i will remember
a day i will forget.

A New Tomorrow

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

i will rise and wash away this day
i will remember yesterday
the passion that sandwiched
morning and night
the friendlovefriendlove
that has become my life
i will take my daughters’ words
embrace them in my arms
instead of throwing them back
i will be a new tomorrow

Película

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i send my camera
zoomed in and out
around our table of twelve
their words slip
like bubbles from their tongues
escaping into the heat
popping before i can catch them

drinks go to lips
songs emerge as naturally
as water flowing from the mountains
they have no idea
they are being filmed

sleep pushes at my eyelids
as the Taiwanese pasta
settles in my belly
but i could stay here forever
listening to the language
i crave to understand
immersing myself in the people
whose home i’ll never know

it is like a dream really
and i pinch myself awake
so full of life
they are so full of life
that no language
could define
just what my video
will never capture