Originally posted 6/20/2009.
From the street,
the dense chunk
of a slammed car door.
A hard, confident summons:
“Hey pendejo –“
Two men speaking.
I can’t hear the words.
Then,
the first big voice again —
“You never know.
When it comes,
it comes.”
After that,
nothing more —
no car door,
no house door,
no words.
I turn off my lights,
climb into bed,
waiting for something
that never happens.
Whenever it comes,
it seems
it won’t be
tonight.
Dark Matter 
February 28th, 2015 at 10:26 am
I am trying to analyze how it is that you take us into a scene so simply, but powerfully that it seems we are there, and yet you always take us beyond the concrete to the metaphorical, usually with a tongue in cheek twist.
It seems like it just comes naturally….no blood and sweat and search for words. Is that true?
February 28th, 2015 at 10:33 am
Completely the opposite. These take time. I usually have several going at once. I only post them when I am done with them at least for the moment.