All it takes is one pic
Twenty minutes on their blog
And I’m sold
For ten grand we could
Buy that bike
Load up our trailer
And pedal into the
Vacation of my dreams.
You (and everyone else)
Would say we’re as crazy
As Icarus flying his chariot
Too close to the sun.
But I will always know
(we will always know)
That before the wax melted,
He burned a trail of glory
(we’ll burn a trail of glory)
That all of us can see behind us
For the remainder of our lives.
One downtrodden minivan
Two impatient, scratchy, whiny pets
Three cranky, anxious, bored little girls
Four filled-with-books-and-movies iPods
Five warm-for-summer-weather sleeping bags
Six BPA-free and steel hot-water-by-now bottles
Seven wheels on two bikes, a trailer, and a tag-along
Eight crammed-into-the-carryon pairs of extra summer shoes
Nine months of planning, cramming, shoving, swearing, packing
Ten priceless weeks with the cutest, newest addition to our family.
The year I thought nothing
could grow in my heart:
That was the year I met you
with everything blackened,
deadened inside me,
you took my heart,
held it in your hands, and
like a lover of gardens,
pulled out the weeds
that I thought had permanently
implanted themselves,
and replanted my love,
only to tend with water
and years of sunlight
the beauteous garden
that without you
we would never have
to pick from, to eat,
to admire.
Life just the way I want to live it
even if it means
shooting out words
that no one else would say
because I’m me
and
I am wild
like the lions on the savannah
searching for food
that truly the cheetahs
have killed
but I’ll take it
if it means surviving
Life just the way I want to live it
even if it means
shooting out words
that everyone else wants to say
but won’t
I will because
I am wild
and no one can tame
the fire in my soul,
no one can bury this burden
of yearning that I hold,
so I must dig it out myself,
I must be myself.
you and I, we are the volcano that
forms the igneous rock of our earth.
you may think this volcanic eruption
produces nothing but destruction.
but then why are the highest valued
properties (our glorious creations)
always at the foot of a volcano,
closest to peaceful, pristine beaches?
the perfect combination of hot magma
and cool sea breezes (you and I)
creates nothing less than the fertile
soil that brings forth magnificence.
even as we separate (as the lava blackens),
we can look back at the hibiscus flowers,
the banyan trees, the plants you’ll see nowhere else,
and know our creations will always connect us.
Congratulations on finishing eighth grade!
If you ever need a laugh,
Miguel will step it up
with irony, astute observations,
and constant requests for
bathroom breaks,
everything with a smile
on his face and
“I understand” in his heart.
If you ever have a doubt,
Rafael has your back,
plugging away at his work
to try and get ahead,
coming in early
and turning in late,
he’ll get it done and thank
you for the help.
If you ever need to smile,
Sophia will show you her art
so skillfully crafted by her hands,
her pencils, her colors,
she’ll show you the way to
overcome when things get tough,
plowing ahead and working hard
and always keeping her head held high.
If you ever wonder what happened,
Juan is sure to point out
the funny little things
the rest of us don’t notice,
and is the first to apologize
if he is wrong, and is always happy
with life’s simple pleasures,
something we all need to remember.
my eyes burn with such distaste
that i cannot even see the good in you
your inadequacies pile up
like a hot load of shit
after eating too many chiles
and i want to pick up giant chunks
of it and splatter them
all over your face
just because you think you’re God
of the computer world
does not mean that you have
to fuck over the good deed
that i attempted today.
you know who you are.
and if you expect to see
any more hundreds of dollars
coming out of my measly paycheck
to feed your ignorance,
you better find a way
to make it up to me.
although your eyes weren’t meant
to read those words
i’m still glad that you know
because it’s the truth
and you’re right,
i should have told you before.
it’s all in the past now,
and we won’t be walking
hand in hand today
or ever.
but i will still remember
how well you knew me
(personally anyway)
even if you could never
quite see my professional side.
and though it is awkward now
time will lick our wounds clean
i will no longer have nightmares
and we will both be
more careful about
the things we say
and the things we do.
This season I will grow time
pull it out of my sleeves
like magical Mr. Mistofelees
so when my youngest looks at me
with her shy and longing smile
and inquires, “Is today a school day for you?”
I will answer, “No,” and make it
all about her, even if I must wake
before dawn and stow the bike
and put away the computer
and forget for once what
I’m having for lunch the next day,
all so we can sit together on the couch
and cuddle with a book,
sing the songs she loves to hear
from my tone-deaf larynx,
and have all the time in the world.
The part I need to leave behind
is small
but still rattles around in my heart
like a bottle of water on the floor of the car,
always gurgling, bumping up against
the seats, the door
with every sharp turn
or rapid stop, mystifying me
with my inability to find it at traffic lights.
But I will.
Find it, I mean, and pick it up,
spin the top off,
gulp down the remnants of H2O
that have been waiting years
to enter my soul,
and throw that blasted bottle
in the recycle bin,
ready for someone else to melt it down,
remold it, and create something new.
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