Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my short story, "Adrenaline job"!
Thank you!
Adrenaline job
Isn’t it so awesome that he did not turn depraved?
Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "Isn’t it so awesome that he did not turn depraved?"!
Thank you!
tarot reading
She was sucking
on a red lollipop
quite loudly
and would constantly
take it out of her mouth
to stir her whiskey with it
She wore round sunglasses
a crimson bandanna
her hair in thin dreads
and all her shirts
were sleeveless
She took the lollipop out
one more time and
pointed it at him
across the table
“You want some?”
she asked
“Um, no thanks. I, uh,
stay away from sweets.”
She dipped the lollipop
back into the glass
and stirred a bit
then put it back
in her mouth
“Good for you.
I’m not too fond
of these either.
Just use ’em to help me
break the smoking habit.
It’s been working lately.”
She picked up the glass and took a sip
of the lollipop-flavored whiskey
“Anyway, like I said,
I brought you to my place
to read your tarot cards.”
She pulled the deck out
from under the table
and began shuffling
it intently
“If all’s good,
there’ll be a second date
and perhaps even more.
It all depends on you.”
Just then,
her dog barged into the room,
a fat pit bull wagging its stubby tail
and sniffing around the guest
It then ambled to her side
and she took the lollipop
and placed it between
the dog’s jaws
She shuffled some more
very focused on what
she was doing
and when all was ready
she took the lollipop
from the dog’s mouth
and resumed sucking on it
with loud slurping sounds
“So, you ready?”
she asked
He watched her,
gulped, and
scratched his head
“Um… yeah, totally.
This is, uh… like
poker, right?”
Thank you!
rice and walnuts
“I fucking hate rice,” she
told me. “And I’m beginning
to kinda
hate you for loving it.”
“Shit,” I said, “what
did rice ever
do to you?”
She opened her purse
took out the pack of smokes
and fished one out
with her lips. “Fuck,” she said,
looking for the lighter.
“I think I still
have the pits in my knees…”
“What?”
She shrugged. “I was a little girl,
alright, and whenever I
did something that my dear grandma
considered naughty she’d
pour raw rice in a corner
of the room and make me kneel
on it and just stand like that for…
I don’t know, hours.”
“Really?”
“Really!” She blew the smoke
in my face. “To this day,
bitch still wonders
how I could steal her savings
from the pension. I didn’t
even need the money. I just hated
her guts is all. And now
I hate rice. And you.”
“Well,” I said. “I never stole
from my grandma. And to
this day I don’t hate walnuts.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that was my version
of the punishment. I knelt on
shells of walnuts just
like you with the rice. And I
don’t hate ’em.”
She blew more
smoke in
my face
Thank you!
bit by bit, little by little
there were times when she bit and
chewed the inside
of her elbow
to spit the bits of flesh
and the blood
on her grandma
but those times were over
almost forgotten
along with the teachings that
her blood is poisoned
because she was conceived with the
wrong woman, meaning
not the one grandmother intended for
her father
But today all those
people were dead. Only father was
alive
He was all right. A hard working
man, busy with life
busy enough not to notice
that his daughter
is constantly sprinkling ashes in
his food and coffee
He’d almost consumed the
contents of
his mother’s urn
there’s just
a bit left
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
After things fell apart
Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "After things fell apart"!
Also check out some of my poetry books on Amazon --> HERE!
Thank you!
they don’t know him for an artist
the law forbids him
to walk the streets with the
label of that bottle exposed
but he does anyway
and there’s no one to care
enough to report him
he’s just another drunkard
getting his fix
also homeless
he wears baggy jeans with lots of
unruly strings around the hems
and the belt
a few holes at the knees
a hole in the shirt
dirt, sweat, something that looks
like blood splotches, something
that’s probably just mustard
just another drunkard getting
his fix
but they don’t know him for an artist
in the breast pocket of his shirt he holds
two long yellow pencils
and he uses them to make music
for the crows in the park and for the pigeons,
though the pigeons are less impressed by his
performance
he empties the bottle and finds a park
bench and pulls out the long yellow
pencils and starts
drumming into the wood
of the back rest
and the crows gather round to listen
and sometimes the dogs join as well
and sometimes the snails after the rain
but never the people
Adrenaline job
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