I’m not a good man right now;
I’m a fractured body with a timid soul and a weak mind.
I deserve to be stored away like hotel furniture that’s
—just not the same anymore—
and I’m not...
the same anymore.
I still see reflections of myself,
but they ripple away,
ripple away,
ripple away,
like a lake going
nowhere:
same as me:
my heart can only take me
so
   far,
before my mind takes over
and carries with it, my soul.

So, I understand why I’m sitting at a desk
no bigger than a kids picnic table,
trying to write this while the guests in the room next door
laugh and speak in a language I don’t understand
(hard to tell if they’re kids—
speeding toward the future;
or old men and women
trying to pretend the future isn’t ahead).
It’s funny the way that is:
they (whoever they are)
laugh and share moments and live,
while I sit next door
searching for the same thing. . .
apparently, it’s not too far away.

At least the heater kicks on every ten minutes,
giving me a constant hum to write over;
unfortunately, it lasts no longer than the green on a traffic light,
sending me right back to a mental state of confusion:
—lost in a tsunami tossing ‘round my mind,
trying to figure out which
way
to swim;
eyes closed,
no sense of direction;
I will follow the weak pitter-patter
of my heart.
It tells me to swim up,
but my mind sends another wave
and up
doesn’t feel like up anymore;
it feels like a deeper dive
into the dark.

I deserve to be in this room,
peeling at the walls for a
sign of you
underneath the mold and plaster.

(They may be of Spanish descent: the guests, laughing in the room next door.)

The hum of the fan is back,
and what I was trying to describe
is the way one sign of your love shocks me back to
me,
like a defibrillator:
my breath is a calm breeze on a cool, summer night;
my heart burns like a fire so intense—
the oceans couldn’t put out the flames;
my mind sings my soul to ease,
and I think of you and your love.

They say time apart helps determine the future—
that it gives the heart time to heal.
But my heart remains alone and scared,
while I wait to see if our love is real.

(Definitely Spanish)