Gnat

When spring
wakes again
at its resurrection,
year after year
and the buds begin to open
and their colors invite your pleasure,
like an eye in masterbation.
Sunsets appear, or rather you
watch them more frequently
and the spring which has awoken
is living
but I am not.
The beauty is quite distracting,
it darts against my
window like a gnat,
scraping the grey filth,
collected over months.
I imagine this gnat
swallowing me whole
and we fly
engorged,
sucking on light bulbs
in the night.

Walking

I saw
the city of angels
in the flicker of a candle,
Softly lit
in the shadows
of a church.

Outside, the
sun sinking
below the horizon,
and the lights flickering
on in the city.

I saw the vatos with their shaved heads,
and their hynas with the
arched eyebrows,
cruising down Whittier Blvd.,
in a Chevy Impala
low-rider,
listening to oldies, choking
down a smoke,
Rivera-13 etched across their necks.

Punks, skating on the sidewalk
smoking hash, smiling
with broken teeth, dumpster
diving in the alley.

And a man,
selling oranges and fresh flowers
on the corner,
with tired eyes -
worn shoes.

Making the sign of the cross,
I pray El Padre Nuestro,
for mi famila,
that we can make it.
That Los angéles,
watch over us.

I open the door.
my mom offering food, and I
say: gracias a dios.