Olvido
mi niñez,
mi anhelo
como el naranjal olvida
los azahares
que no crecen a naranja.
Month: November 2025
Amalfi Coast
Love was a concept he donated
only in the summer.
He’d paid for the devil’s aid,
Now the heat, Hadean escape.
Pretty face, locked gaze.
Sentiero dei Limoni.
The sun picked her through rays.
The days, the days!
They lived under a bittersweet haze.
He knew the path was paved in the darkest asphalt.
She claimed asphalt-paths were made for Vespas.
He had a debt due,
an aching feeling tearing dried glue
of a closed wound.
His heart starts beating even as it’s fleeting.
Love was a concept she gave
only that summer.
She ate rotting lemons
and threw out lingering costs.
When he returned,
he tore the truth and it blew
across the sea to Bizerte.
Yellow
In the field where we once grew,
I wondered why the deer departed
as I pulled marigolds from their home.
Before the final petal fell,
I ate that wicked flower.
No lies left behind in its shadow.
The promises of stars
became celestial ash
marking our footprints,
scars.
Our plans became
burned maps of places
we would never see.
I tried to give you my soul,
only the weeds could hear me
but they soon died from pesticides.
Tree-lined Boulevard
Let’s walk on the tree-lined boulevard.
Football season.
I don’t care for sports but you do
and I care for you.
Life gave us short change
on a summer’s day.
Then in the fall,
a key thrown past a post
but I cut the field goal.
I dream of yesterday
dressed like a king
crowned by yew trees.
Your pinkie near mine
a promise owed to time.
The walk is a winding road
leading to the start
with no end goal
or throne of gold.
You fade like a breeze between teeth.
Noble wins belong to you, not me.
I, once a gem,
return to the path like a pebble,
And now,
only the trees remember our story.
FJ Vera 