(Note: This is for Germán, Ricardo and Berto. Thank you, gentlemen.)
The music from heaven
synced our footsteps.
Laughter and faulty chromosomes in ink
bonded us forever.
The sky was unreachable,
but we had to try anyway.
I miss that.
I miss walking long capitalist hallways,
dressed like hip lumberjacks.
A couple of bucks in our pockets,
a play yard singing with beeps and whistles.
We could be anywhere, anyone, anyhow.
Look at us, we didn’t
look like you.
We didn’t look like you
wanted us to.
Darkly dressed in denim and Doc Martens.
We didn’t look like you.
We didn’t want to.
You said so much,
without saying anything at all.
We could look through all the windows.
Or did you not expect that we could see to see?
But, we were
We had each other,
and pages and pages of brightly colored capes.
And blurry blue spines on fields of green.
And swords and sorcery, and bags full of
We had it all,
though our hands hit empty against the