La Pura Neta

I. Walking with a friend down the alley where we met- it’s a pebble street. Reminds us of Mexico, a place we used to call home. II. Pounding and drilling to build this new building where you can view the lake if you can afford it. III. For lunch I had toast with some tune and veggies but it got soggy. It was very messy but it tasted very good. IV. I was so wrapped up in figuring out the best way to eat my toast when I looked up I felt like the world slapped me awake. V. Latin street food to go- as if that wasn't what it already is when cooked at home then sold by uncles on their painted carts. VI. children dance to a jig tune played by the elder womans shamisen at the washington platform waiting for the train to come. (( Tanka: A Japanese form of five lines with 5, 7, 5, 7, and 7 syllables—31 in all http://www.poetryfoundation.org/learning/glossary-term/tanka))

He looked just like him: my Mexican Steelo. "Do you comprehend?" no falling, just flying. everything: clear sky's, days and nights.

The wall is yellow with spots of lines made by a pencil The orange wall across from it is filled with swirls of red and green color She sits on brown steps in-between these walls Concentrating on the images and the words of a song she plays and repeats on a phone. The kids laugh and play along One on the drums another la-la-ing words from a song The father plays scales on his bass and plays excerpts of the kids favorite songs Everyone is full of joy  It’s comforting to live in this moment,  There are no worries The afternoon storm has passed this home. “Pizza time! Pizza time!” the son yells to all who come through the door. “It has cheese and spinach and pepperoni” then says no more. The TV is loudly playing a show. “Teen Titans GO!”, he yells, singing along to the words of the theme song He sits quietly, enjoying his food  So transfixed is he,  That he doesn’t notice some pieces food has fallen to floor.

Noise. I can't hear the thoughts in my head did she say run, to dream of better times...though she hates all the ones that I dream up Stay here, I'll be right back though I know she won't be We live in the basement of the house of crosses Left with the one who doesn't know how to garden but he sure can make you believe he does Because, for the selfish, beauty can easily be dreamed up for them to see especially when the colors of the dreams are shades of blue and green. I escaped with a twenty-dollar bag of hot chips and a determination to burn all eggs and waffles and toast. The fire set me free.

and here I was, thinking and making myself believe, many other things. when, from the beginning to the end, we have always been family and friends. -feeling thankful for the love the world has shown to me. for helping me to learn to love myself and for helping me learn to let others love me. for, we all deserve love and we all should cherise those that love us. -now, to work with my mind. to have her understand that there is love in this house, there is no danger around, and for her to feel more secure to plant herself on the warm ground. for, there is love in this house. there is love all around, whether there are quarrels or not, love is at heart.

...I thought they were pimples. I layed on my stomach, on top of a bed cover with a floral duvet. the unseen doctor began to exam my back. Hmm, he said. This one here is a worm. I felt him tugging, I felt discomfort, it felt small but long. i felt the snap when the worm was detached from my skin. the doctor placed it on the bed and I could see a thin white string but as I tried to touch it with my pointing finger, it moved and wriggled around. the doctor pulled out another but this one was shorter. the third was tinier. just as I was pushing off the bed, because the exam was done, my daughter crawled across the bed, her feet too close to the area where the worms were placed. immediately, I searched for the long worm. I picked it up with a tweezer and as it got to eye level, it tried to get in my mouth. I closed my lips immediately and blocked it. my husband than disposed of it. the second worm was tossed but the tiniest one was not found. I feared it attached itself to my daughter. I f...

My name is Mary. 5'3, medium brown hair that frizzes in the warmth. I like my shirts button to the top. Sometimes, I add my own bow made of left over ribbon from old gowns. My skirts are long and full. Its gets a little difficult for me to walk around when I need to get somewhere quickly but I really enjoy the sweeping movement it makes when I walk. Its as though I'm gliding. "Hi Mary". Its James. "Hi", I say shyly. I hope he doesn't notice my skin melting. "What is it you are writing? I always see you with your notebook and pen at hand. I thought I could sneak up to you this time to figure it out". Oh, that smile. Its so mischievious as if he knew his presence makes my pits sweat and my arms jiggle. "Just notes," I say. "But I must be on my way!" I say ratherly loudly and before he can object I walk in to the mist of morning traffic on Fletcher Street. I don't dare look back for fear he may be staring at me. Plus,...