Why is it
that you always buy
a package of sour gummy worms
and an Arizona Iced Tea
at the gas station?
Every time, without fail,
you spend your coins and cash
on the same two items,
your ambrosia and nectar
that will immortalize you forever,
bathed in the fluorescent lights
of the 7-11.
Why is it
that we always accidentally
end up at the airport?
We drive without a map,
no destination in mind,
and yet it has happened at least three times.
Three times we have ended up
in places we were not meant to be,
yet it feels more right
than any scripture that’s been written,
traveling forever into eternity.
Why is it
that Denny’s feels safer
than any house I have lived in?
The booth we sit in
is more comfortable than my bed,
more protective than a mother’s hug,
a sanctuary for those who wander.
You’ve had four strawberry lemonades
in the last fifteen minutes,
and I can still taste their sweet scent,
a thousand flowering plants
with roots that will consume
my decaying body.
Why is it
that you always wear
purple Crocs?
With socks, no less,
as you stand at the top of the playground
barely visible in the darkness.
I will reach you
with the rusted chains of the swing set,
the moon as my halo
and the sharp air as my wings.
Our conversation flows
like the hymns of heavenly choirs
as we claim the kingdom we have made
in Sunset Park.
Why is it
that the dull stars of the suburbs,
an echo of the Big Dipper,
and a whisper of Orion’s Belt,
are more beautiful than all the galaxies
that God could ever make?
We lay in a random soccer field,
the dew dampening our clothes,
simply existing in this world
with the light polluted sky
and the same five stars we see every night.
All at once I realize:
There is no place I would rather be
than here with you
at 2 a.m.
Rey Tello
Leave a Reply