I wrestled with the sun all morning and afternoon.
I lost a hair or two and maybe a gold tooth.
I melted under the hostile sun and the beer I drank
did not quench my thirst or stop my tears.
The burning sensation I felt from its touch
was not like the kisses I sadly missed. When will
I find my luck in the sun. I feel like I am always
under its watch and I take its most brutal shots.
I feel like taking a dip in the river. Its reflection
is always there. The sun drowns me with scorching
rays and I do not know how I remain standing.
I could taste its fire and feel its heat in my eyelids.
One day I will not be able to see. At the local saloon
I will not raise a toast to the sun as a principle.
Luis was born in Mexico, lives in California, and works in the mental health
field in Los Angeles, CA. His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, Beatnik Cowboy,
Dope Fiend Daily, Unlikely Stories, and Zygote In My Coffee.
No comments:
Post a Comment