aquí nomas

  how often it was yours became ours and now it’s back to me how do I untie the threads we sewed into each other? the stitches itch when I think of you, bleed through the double knots  did you ever drive back to the house out of habit? familiar route on the tip of your nose, tapping your fingers along the steering wheel  as you cut back my seams  threaded but fraying in your heart? I fear I will spend the rest of my life  missing what never became what cannot return what I don’t ever want to feel again 

when I say what I mean, loosen my hands  and lay my honesty down on the table, who loses?  my stubborn brain, holding out with white knuckles, has cost me a tender heart time and time again. 

thank god for quinn, thank god for my camera that allows me to love my friends through the lens. 

the familiar dusty bottle in one hand while I press the napkin down with the other,  I ask the wind coming through my window, how does the smallest scratch hit just deep enough to rush all the blood back to old wounds?

september, a time of in betweens  remain tender and open, keep your childlike wonder, don’t harden just ‘cos it’s easier 

  george used to come around with 2 things, the coffee pot and a bottle of ouzo.  we played pool at 25cents a pop and got our asses handed to us.  prices kept climbing and the place kept empty but the lights stayed on and they never closed.  rest in peace to a san francisco staple I’ll miss forever.