Poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
Off the I:10 Off the I-10 I am guided by memory in my quest to relive the past. The ghost of my father’s shop remains. The name has changed. I hear the sound of sewing machines, of scissors cutting fabric, and the hammer and staple gun of the carpenter. In his 70’s in the 80’s, I am certain he is dead and buried like my father. The past has come and gone and all I have is a memory of ancient days. It is getting too late to stay around. It makes me sad being in these streets. I drive back to the house that my father and mother bought, where I feel the sadness come and go as well until I drift off to sleep. Waiting Around Waiting around like always, the story of my life: whether it is for food, love, or a better job, the wait is always a part of it. It is the hardest part if you listen to Tom Petty. Sometimes It is worth it and sometimes it is not. It is best to walk away sometimes and leave the waiting for someone else. The Last Cold Here it is, the last cold of all the colds I have had in the whole of this life. Soon I will have a last sneeze once and for all. I might not blow my nose. My head will ache worse than ever and this so-called condition will be an afterthought. This poet has seen much better days. This is the last goodbye. I cannot face the sun lying on this bed. I will turn all the lights down. Here it is, the last cold. It is a physical thing. Keep the aspirin.
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal is a Mexican-born author, who resides in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poems have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, and Unlikely Stories.
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