"so you think this is it hu?"

her bare legs were swinging in the sun as she worked her way through three baskets of strawberries

"basically.. yeah

this is it"

"so all the shit we but up through
all the tears people cry
all the bad poetry, wallowing pop songs, wilted roses, thrown rings
for this?"

she was stretching in the sun now

"what's wrong with this"

he pulled her closer and scratched her face with his stub

she pulled her face away and looked at him

"nothing, that's what's wrong with it
i just thought there would be more of a bang, you know...
a big finale or showdown or something

i should've ran down the airport hallway and jumped onto you, screaming your name"

just let me bleed and leave scars once in a while okay?

organized as such

from the kitchen to the front door

Shakespeare

greek

italian

poetry

(asian hand, reaching for something)

short fiction

non fiction

Modern

English

American

Front door

organized as such

from the kitchen to the front door

Shakespeare

greek

italian

poetry

short fiction

non fiction

Modern

English

American

Front door

MEXICANS: PART TWO

I decided to take side streets home
from the bowels of east la to the west
exiting off of Santa fe
on roads with deep ruts from large mack trucks
a left on washington
and I was driving along the road the metro rail train runs
you sit at stop lights
and watch the train people wait on the platform
tired faces
tired faces who ride buses
and are waiting for the train
the old women in their stalkings and comfortable shoes
the young boys in designer jeans
their only pair
the timeless pair
old ladies and young men
waiting for the train

by the time I got into culver city I was restless
side streets bore you in the city you were born
this mexican tried to pull out on front of me and i gave him nothing
he was trying to merge into the lane and i didnt let him
traffic was at a stand still
he put it in reverse
then sped forward to try and get into the lane again

his car jumped the curb
there were sparks when the car scrapped the pavement
i laughed
he got out of the car and looked at me
he was half the size of me
and he spit in my direction
he had a girl in the car
i stayed inside looking at him
i smiled again
i was sure we was going to walk towards me
i had my hand on the seat belt until I saw her
it was all show
he spit in my direction

and i let him have his moment
I didnt leave the car
I looked at the stereo
game over
he won
he got back into the car

he was in front of me
and i changed lanes
so i could be along side him
at the stoplight
he made a quick right
and i was once again
sitting in traffic

tapping out drum beats
on the stearing wheel

nobody drinks for the taste anyway

right?

it was a tourist attraction

flames on waves

something like that

it looked like barbecue beside a kid pool to her

or maybe a place like that needed to be in a cave

it wasn't eerie enough out in the open

under broad daylight

the sunlight just made it look

...

cheap

the walls were stained

the pond looked artificial

the fire wasn't bad though

licking and dancing

she could imagine it's laugh

the trees were

strange

sausage trees

they had orbs of fruit hanging down from the branches

they reminded her of penises

she saw dozens and dozens of penises hung on trees

DO NOT EAT

TOXIC

they pulled up to the temple

Taiwan Organic Betel Nut was flashing across the curvy mountain street

"your granddaddy hates noise"

her father looked at the parading temple gods

she was trying to concentrate on the S curves and the parking

"your granddaddy likes open spaces"

she knew daddy was talking about the confined shelf space granddaddy's ashes resigned

B1 A9 2

basement one, space A, ninth shelf, second to the left

-------------

she was in sixth grade and had just scored the tofu test

she was sleepy and her pony tail had gotten all messy during the hour car ride

she didn't understand why granddaddy's ashes had to be put way up here in a temple

couldn't they take him home and put him on top of the television set or something?

daddy insisted on driving over to tell granddaddy

she wanted to be cynical and roll her eyes and say something like

he's dead

but she couldn't

she walked sideways down the steep stairs

there was plastic wrap on the ceiling

"Mind Your Head"

in rainbow markers

she walked down and couldn't breathe

all those people

compressed into urns

tagged, pictured and labeled

it was too crowded

daddy pointed to the jug way up

she was too short to see the picture

she thought she should cry

but she couldn't

it was too crowded and she couldn't breathe

--------------

the plastic wrap was still there

the marker sign had faded a little

she padded down the steps and reached for the stool

stepped on it and brushed off granddaddy's urn

and she started babbling about her life

even when he probably had already seen all of it

following her like a soap opera

the closest strangers

she wished

she could at least have a decent memory of him

she could have seen his expression if he knew about the tofu

that last glimpse in the casket wasn't him

that she could have cried at the funeral

she wished he hadn't put that plastic bag over his head

just take care of them when i'm gone kay?

she whispered and kissed