Wake up walk to kitchen drink coffee brush teeth walk to school remember routine the outline is no dream remember not to fall step step step step remember nothing at all repeat repeat

She was mocha cream skinned, like coffee, she, my weakness like she still is, and all those curls! I pretended they were a nuisance, but at night, I reveled at them in our bed. I would tangle my fingers in those twisting brunette curls and pretend that I could never let them go. She was this shy beauty, unimpressed by her reflection, constantly a critic, even in the face of all my compliments. I loved those curls, and watching her smile peek from behind them she was a mocha cream skinned an...

The timid are the greatest fools, the ones who hold back, deserve the pity from those who hold nothing back. I will tell you an unpleasant truth about reckless abandon and the nature of love: neither should be done carelessly Love, like reckless abandon does not know how to deceive, and this truth is a part of me for I love and I live in that way.  

I remember the cold and the little cars- Little French men in little French cars on little French streets. We stayed in a little hotel. The trains were the biggest.  

It swirls in the bottom, plum wine in a crystal glass, sweet and potent splashed over my tongue with chicken stir fry. It reminds me of cooking for you or orange chicken at Triple 8's, and so many things do this to me. Memories are just as sweet as a glass of plum wine at midnight. The laundry buzzer blares at three past the hour, reminding me of the quiet in my house and the quiet in my heart, it is so silent. Quiet drenches the sound of the television, the washing machine, the dishwas...

Last night I was - beguiled by the purple moonlight, shrouded in sackcloth and ashes, stealing the soul of Wichita's Gremlin, with photographs and bright flashes.  

calimocho covered streets run red with camisetas and teenagers wet from la fiesta, but would the virgin of San Lorenzo really bless this? My cafe con leche swirls its scent with the smoke of my cigarette and Valladolid hums in September before the frost of winter and the brittle crisp cold descends on my Spanish town. But we all run red with secrets and my cafe con leche runs brown and thick over my tongue and teenagers come singing refrains while  casually drink in the streets...

I like- poetry time and wine, whiskey time and rhymes, Shana and her poetry, it's divine. I like - people who can read me or make me think, because I don't like to explain but I love to use ink. I like - Avocado and tomato and other fruits mistaken for vegetables. I like that there was a national debate on whether tomato was spelled with an 'e' at the end. I like - people who memorize their poems, because I usually read mine. I like - people who smile for no reason at all, pe...

Roasting espresso beans, black as liquorice, heavy on smoke and steel barrels, aroma canvasing the senses. Azula came to roast with me in those dark italian boots. Wrapped up Italian legs, born of Italian roots, accent thick as caramel, her sweet black hair, dark as soot. She commanded me, on hasty corners to be her passion, to slide her onto the counter, to work her wild, to roast prefect espresso, and to embrace myself. Days were heavy then, anchored in memories and addictions. A dredge al...

Man she got mad- took a toke and poked a jab at my ego, oh, here we go, again with the labels and how "I am so bad" for using the substances in my hands to escape while she sits and waits for another drag "you fuckin' hippocrite" I had to say.   oh she got mad- here we go man, another accusation from the mouth of a stranger who hits the puff-puff pass while sittin on her ass watching her little ones sass and I gotta tell her in a junkies prophetic way how it's one thi...