The Lake

She stared into the still lake. Its face revealed the light of the moon and she could see her own reflection. She felt a cold a chill come over her. An anxiety that filled her palms with a cold sweat. She took in a full breath and released it with a loud sigh to the moon. She felt the moon heavy, watching over her and the tattling lake reflecting it all. She blew her breath out at her urging her to go away.

She turned over her shoulders and saw the machete lying casually on the dirt besides her under its own spot light. The blood on the machete gleaming with the light of the moon, a whimper left her it hurt to think of him. She shook her head to shake him out. She kneeled over to the machete and picked it up the way she would pick up a dirty diaper without holding her nose. She walked it to the lake a few steps away and dipped it in the water. She saw the jelly like blood clots swimming on to the lake.

She watched them swim away slowly and her thoughts went with them. They looked like the same cherry clots that dropped from between her legs that night he killed her baby. The bastard, punch her so hard in her abdomen. He’d been drinking. She had been hitting the pipe all afternoon, so she was too out of it to fight back. It was partly her fault she thought. He laughed at her. He laughed at her pain stricken face as he watched her, a cry choking her throat her body freezing inward to release the living flop inside her that he’d loosened with the punch.

“Oh shit did you just crap on the floor” he said laughing. “Clean it up you sick bitch” He knew exactly what he had done. He cried to her later after she’d been back from the hospital. She knew he could not share her not even if it was his baby. She forgave him and allowed his sloppy drunk love making.

Giggles and cries escaped her. She was a mad woman. This time there was no denying it. She brought out the machete from underwater. How phallic she thought. It turned her on. She thought of him. She always thought of him, no one else but him. She clutched the machete with both her hands and brought it near her chest. She embraced it. She kissed the flat surface of it and pressed it against her face as she had often done to him. But it was so cold. Her tears rolled on to it. This was the closest she would ever be to him now. She kissed the traces of blood left over not washed off by the water. She kissed them gently at times sucking and filling her mouth with that penny tang his blood left behind on her lips when she bit down hard on him. The freckles on his chest she thought. She remembered his blood all over her and she hugged herself. She sobbed, sobbed as she hugged herself. Sobbed like an abandoned child, sitting alone staring at the lake embracing his machete.

Hours had gone by, the moon almost gone. She was still sitting in the same position, holding the machete facing the lake. Now awakening from a trance like state, her high had worn off. She found herself a bit relieved because she would now be able to drive herself out of there. She looked down on herself and saw it all different. She was covered in blood. Her shirt half torn, her jeans barely a hue of blue left in them. Her hair was sticky of him. She thought she would cut all her hair off once at home. The machete still locked in her arms. She looked at it “leave nothing behind”. She thought out loud as she looked around to see what else needed to go with her. But there was nothing. She’d taken care of everything.

She stood up with the machete in her hand and began to walk away leaving the lake behind with the moon no longer watching over her shoulders.

Patitas.....

Being single doesn’t suck
Dating sucks.
You put yourself out there and it’s what comes back at you that’s kind of freaky.

They met, they connected
he was all over her.
“She said hold on baby, let’s take things slow”
Not because she didn't want him or it
because sometimes you just want "it"
and then they act surprise and turn you down.What? Too aggresive are we?

They met through her boss and she needed so play it safe.
And it went like this:

First date!
Dinner at Vittorio’s restaurant in Venice
Piccolo
7pm
A glass of wine, ok maybe two
Another drink at the Viceroy
Ended back at his place
No heavy petting
Just some light kissing
She laid on his couch
the long way
Him at other end
Massaging and kissing her feet
She liked it
Better than the pedicure foot rub she’d gotten earlier that afternoon
He sucked her toes
a little weird
First date, to early for toe sucking
Then it happened
he pulled it out
whipped it out
She just watched
Like watching one of of Harry's
performance art videos at the LACMA
or sitting high through a Jodorowsky flick
He tugged and jerked it,
between her feet and toes
until he finished
poor Patitas
violated, left in a state of shock
Her feet numb
splattered with
sticky, icky, thick white toe jam.

Lost Xica

Looking for a thirty year old, smart, good looking, Latina, long hair, but always pinned up. Has a full time job and drives a small car. She loves her cat. Is single, highly independent rarely needs anything from men. She goes to church on Saturday afternoons before dinner with friends or coming home to a book and a toke. Last seen leaving her house early morning on a Monday in black heels a nice work suit and wearing a strand of imperfect pearls.

Found

In bed hung over, disheveled at midafternoon. Puffy eyed looking chica with sticky hair from last night’s vomit. She’s jobless and soon maybe homeless. She wakes and bakes and then showers. She doesn’t shave her legs mostly because she’s too high. She is constantly facebooking, texting a guy from the central valley and calling a guy from NoHo. She yells at her cat and no longer fears earthquakes.

la estrella y la resortera

Ella
Que quieres?

El
Yo nada.

Ella
Entoces a que vienes?

El
A ver.

Ella
A ver que?

El
La estrella.

Ella
Pero si son un monton.

El
Si pero yo nomas vengo a ver una.Y sabes me voy a subir a ese árbol, me voy a parar en la rama y le voy a tirar con mi resortera.

Ella
La vas a cazar!

El
Si!

Ella
Que malo eres.

El
Si muy malo. Y cuando esa se caiga, las demas la van a seguir y no va haber ninguna estrella en el cielo.

Ella
Pero porque quieres hacer eso?

El
Pues para que se vaya la luz, y todo este muy oscuro.

Ella
Y no va ver luz?!

El
No!

Ella
Pero yo voy a tener mucho miedo.

El
Yo no.

Ella
Pero en la obscuridad no se ve nada.

El
Y que, de todos modos nadie nos ve.

La niña y la mariposa

Mis amigos son el columpio y la mariposa. Cuando me siento en el columpio pienso en mi papi que esta trabajando. Todas las mañanas se sube a su Chevy Nova color plátano maduro. El hizo mi columpio. Corto el palito de una escoba por la mitad. Amarro dos pedazos de soga no muy gruesa en el techo del porche y lo amarro muy bien y ahora tengo un columpio. Solo para mi. Porque si se sube Lupe la gorda entonces no aguanta. Ya paso una vez, se subió y pobrecita gordita. Saz! Se dio un panzazo. Pero mi papa dijo que mejor así para que nadie me moleste y pueda jugar aquí en frente de la casa. No debo salir mas aya del patio de la casa. El columpio solo me sostiene a mi. Mi papa me levanta con una mano y me sube al cielo y luego me da vueltas y dice “aquí viene un papalote.” Yo rió. Me dice que mi columpio es solo para los que pesan como papalotes como yo. Nunca me caigo. Bueno solo una vez me caí pero porque no me agarre de la soga sino del puro palito y me caí para tras. Que torpe, me raspe toda la espalda. Fue ese día cuando conocí a la mariposa. De primero no sabia quien me regañaba. Pero despues la vi y quede pasmada. Me decía que no llorara. “Mira nomás tu, con tus ojitos de chiva ahorcada, ya no llores.” Nunca me asuste porque era muy hermosa. Ahora me siento en mi columpio y platico con ella a diario. Yo le digo que es muy bonita. Que sus colores me marear. Me desespero porque no la puedo acariciar. Mejor que fuera gato.

“Cuando yo crezca quiero ser mariposa como tu” le dije un día, pero la mariposa se río me dijo que yo no puedo ser mariposa. Yo me puse triste al pensar que nunca volaría como ella. Otra vez me dijo que no empezara con mis ojitos de chiva ahorcada. Pero no le entendí. Me dijo que voy a ser grande y fuerte, no chiquita y frágil como ella. Creo que no es feliz. Pobrecita se a de sentir solita. Yo no se. Casi no le entiendo. Me dice cada cosa. Yo nomás la miro porque es tan bonita que no es difícil solo mirarla. Además a mi todo lo que brilla bonito me gusta. Ella me dice que lo bonito esta por dentro. “Que cosas dices mariposa estas ciega o que? Lo bonito ay se ve. Eres tan chistosa” le digo yo. Ella suspira y me dice que algún dia yo lo entenderé. Y me amenaza que nunca deje de ser yo. “Pos otra vez con esas cosas mariposa. Como voy a dejar de ser yo, si yo soy?”

La mariposa nunca se dio por vencida, pero la niña nunca entendió. Cada día le hablaba la niña y la aconsejaba sobre lo que era la vida. El día llego cuando la niña se aburrió de la mariposa y la corrió. La mariposa voló lejos y se fue a buscar donde morir. Pero se fue satisfecha, sabia que aunque ahora la niña no entendia, ella la había escuchado y entonces algún día se acordaría de sus platicas con la mariposa.

El día de su partida:

“Quisiera tener alas hermosas y volar lejos de aquí como tu, porque no te vas. Yo que tu me fuera lejos.” le dijo la niña. La mariposa se para en la nariz de la niña y le dice “el abrir los ojos es como volar. Cuando lo descubras, volaras” La niña se desespera.“Otra vez empiezas con tus palabras y no te entiendo, mejor vete, vuela lejos de aqui antes de que te casé y te ponga dentro de un libro mariposa!”

La mariposa se va, no porque le teme a la amenaza de la niña, sino por que sabe que el tiempo del metamorfosis de la niña esta por llegar.

La niña se queda sola en su columpio comiéndose un taquito de queso.

burn again

minutes pass
random thoughts
you and me
frighten me
burn again
lonely in a
solitude
given by you
photos lost
in boxes
memories
that fade

everything I told you I forgot
everything I gave you give it back
everything we was really always you

Things- spirits, gods, deities, unimaginable creatures existing among us with rootless origins that make the heart-beat

Quetzalcoatl laid his burden on me
wet and heavy feathers on my back
bite me already and let me be free