Antithesis

Sometimes it's an ant
sometimes an army of them
slowly stealing my time

Sometimes it's a mouse
I guess
it comes and takes a bite of my soul
then runs away and hides
until it comes back
back for more

But inertia is the worst
the static couch
floating on the carpet
the lonely table and chair
at the empty cafe

It's when the stroke prone clock decides to stop
serving me more than just a few minutes
more than a box full of memories
where I store your face and your voice and moments
and years and months and words
and it suddenly rushes in
all of it
in the machine gun of reproaches
in the hanging rope of regret

Now the discolored brick wall
the stained window pane
the squeaky desk drawers
and the monotonous routine
slowly gather around me
and I suffocate
wondering if I really tried my best
if everything that happened was meant
or if it was simply all my fault

Sometimes it's an ant
sometimes an army of them

slowly tearing me apart

El Pan Nuestro

En silencio
llego a casa cansado y sin anunciar
me quito las botas en sigilio
no quiero sabotear sorpresivamente
un encuentro mas contigo

Quiero destelefonearte del mundo afuera
descomponer el despertador que me mira con prisas
y asi tomarme el tiempo sin medida
para armar el rompecabezas de tu corazon

Quiero susurrarte estrofas
y fajarte contra la estufa
poner tu cabeza sobre mi hombro
sentir tu calor, como un horno en mis manos
y asi
entre cocinas, y telefonos y manecillas
comerte a besos de merengue
como si fueras pan de leña recien horneado.

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Snow

I can smell the snow
not cashew's bittersweet amarige
or chocolate's moist debauchery
but the dry, crisp, shaved ice grasp

The first time I became completely enamored
piled up on mountains
snowboarders coming down on Snoqualmie
going back up on the lifts
I think it was cold
but I don't remember if it was
lost in complete wanderlust
it was so... alpine
so nordic
I guess I'm a little bit Swiss, after all

Now it's different
it's almost expected
the rush of snowflakes in hurricanes
twirling around the light post
coming down in circles, like little blessings
I know, some people think it's a nuissance
it get's icy and slick and you can't get out
but for some of us it's Christmas
for some of us it's a miracle

My mother can see a pyramid
from her living room
I can see the Olympic Mountains
from mine
and I miss the Columbia
but there's something here
and it feels like I belong
someone told me I would love it here
that it was beautiful
and she was right
I just never expected it to be home

Between Puget Sound and the Cascades
people, places, almost a decade
I've let go of my itchy shoes
and amongst friends and lattes
I can smell the sea salt linger
and on white dressed endless evergreens
tears cristalize in thankfulness
I'm home
and I want it the way it is

There's a bottle of DiSaronno waiting for you
a thick, fleece blanket, spread by the fireplace