On a Saturday night
Where headlights dream to be
Lost in the moon’s silhouette,
Windows break open, despite
The light breeze that sways
A girl’s hair. The sunset lost,
A lantern shadowed in clouds
Wanting to bleed rain.
At a diner, a busboy stands
On the back dock,
And somewhere my mind drifts,
Past San Antonio’s airport
Where honey buns and Latino charm
Gleam despite the silent air. With tired arms
Slinked with dishes, I breathe
past the Sunday chapel, beyond
Thoughts of feeling something
In a moment where excitement becomes longing.
Dishes clash behind me as footsteps
That desire to come back home.
My heart knows
Perhaps, my brain, that I must
Go through. This loneliness in crowds;
people around me, plates burning
My hands. I imagine
What would happen if I just stopped. But
Outside, I hear my mother’s breath
In my dad’s strength, my
Siblings love in my blood-
Pricked hands.