Four Suburban Churros & My Bride, poems by Alveraz Ricardez

    Four Suburban Churros

    fam-packed rusted volvo under patriot sun the kids; rubber banded jumping beans the wife drives like a thawing chihuahua

    my eyes roll back; a slow cooked, wet steak wait to cut a deal with the bad breath of traffic

    I'm rare right now, a nice taste
    sure to be well-done by san diego,
    and jerky by tijuana

      My Bride

      why touch the pen to paper
      when the deep white
      reminds me of you;
      the quiet times

      we compare the
      rhythm of our bellies;
      I slow mine down
      to be more like you

      drunken toes gather
      under a silk pub;
      drift into sweat
      by whispered lies

      my fingers rest in the pink bowl
      just behind your ankle;
      not a word, but we know
      this is the devils playground

      the hollow of our breath
      dance between us;
      the yawn of two giants
      in love


AddThis Social Bookmark Button
Random Contributor
Rumjhum Biswas
Navigation
Newsletters