archer avenue sketch #1

a lonely flea market
framed in the bloodshot eyes
of a hustler who lost his gait
asking me for the time
leaning on a cane
listing like his ship sank
in a bottle of cognac
(i still checked my wallet after)

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humming pain, evening rain

evening rain

that was hesitant once
coats the streets
like useless lottery scratch cards
at bodega thresholds
one doesn’t feel so broken
at the edges 
you forget wounds that weep
and let the air give benediction
as your clothes get damp
your legs sing 
spirituals that stitch past pain
and present regret
weary blues wait their turn
as you can barely stand
when what you got
is soreness and a weary heart
and few give a damn past their umbrellas
reluctant rain just reminds you
to let your pain hum 
because who wants to remember 
those kinds of words?

orange pekoe, summer steam

this steam
that makes the day swim under high sun,
could be nothing else
but the scent from your neck
rich with green grass vapors and orange pekoe
brought to boil with a stare.

as the afternoon sways
much like the latitude of your hips
full and fleshly like guanabana before first bite,
i picture your hands weaving with light
bringing out gentle words with sweat
that pales in sweetness next to a waiting smile.