mom


If this were still

The time

I remember

The radio

Was blaring

Aretha

And the cat was

Following me down the road

There was steak in the pan

With hot peppers

And a large glass of

Orange juice and vodka

Life changed very much

After I left

I ran far from the word

Bitch

But still run into it

Every now and then

The giant white dog

Stayed when I left

Her teeth often barred

In savagery

A lesson

In karma

Chasing her around

While she lunged after

Other dogs

Your spirit

Was always so lost

And wistful

And pining over jewelry

The citrine and the emerald

Food stamps

And jazz

And tears

And I got you a

Conga drum for your

Birthday

And you told me to

Go fuck myself...

The cats name was ringtail

i remember ringtail

and bootise

and spot and coco

who you abducted and

left wondering the countryside

on account of her fleas

I remember she had orange

Fur and she had bluish eyes

I remember all kinds of music

I remember long night s of screaming

I remember trips to go shopping

In Capitola. I remember

The tamales at Sophia’s

(The owner of the restaurant

Hanged himself)

I remember the crucifix

You bought me for my birthday

But don’t remember what year.

It was huge and wrought slver

With Jesus nailed painfully

To the cross. I wore it after I left you.

I miss you terribly mom.

I remember years of wondering

Now ten years, the question

“How are you?” reverberates in my head.