20, December '14

1.

I awoke to a number by a woman named Esperanza-

'Ponta De Areia', it was called

And I didn’t understand a damn thing she was saying

 But had I awoken to a tropical view of any sort,

The cat at the end of my bed and I

Might have found a place called home- 

 

2.

It’s becoming a rarer thing, to see her face when it’s late-

But still she’s sometimes there to haunt the empty space

Even when now all there is, is hate, here and there she beckons

Last night we had left this place, and all its blooded knives-

 my back was healing in the sands, she was standing in the tide.

 

3.

I was walking barefoot down the drive towards home,

Imagining the stones trampled skulls as I scanned the mail-

Bills, offers for bills, love letters to the wrong address-

I asked myself who could do that- lose track of their loved ones

-and then I realized I didn’t know where mine were either,

Or even who they were to begin with anymore.

I laughed and tossed all but two of the letters into the pile

I’ll burn tonight.