Beloved Stranger

Beloved Stranger
I knew you in the dark
Where the depths
Blind us from one another

I knew that gaping hole
That swallows more and more of you
With each passing day

I knew the wandering in the desert
When the sun blanches our eyes
And it’s too cold at night

Even though I knew you
I never found you
Beloved stranger

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 2/12/2015

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

Was thinking of a cousin of mine who would have been the same age as me, but she passed away years ago. We were a lot alike, but living states away, we never realized it. Long story short, she suffered from depression, hung out with the wrong crowd, and passed away getting drunk one night with friends before their car pitched into a lake or river. She gave up one day, and God took her.

Sometimes I wonder how I was never able to find someone in the same darkness I was fumbling around in at the time. I wonder sometimes, what if we would’ve found each other somehow? Would she still be here today?

The penguin on a recent episode of Gotham had an odd moment of wisdom. He said, “Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light”. Could I have been her friend in the darkness? I will never know now…

Advertisements

June

Sunhats shave ice blocks under umbrella stands
Strap backs pendulum their hips
Water runs through flip flops around gradient sprayed concrete
Ink snakes along bronze waists
Party horns honk on trollies
Whistles screech
Where the white T’s palm rubber to a wall
Speakers ride their shoulders
A husky chants “Que bonita bandera”
And the malta men spinning black dotted blocks on turntables
Shake their beaded necks like maracas
The cowbell-
tap- tap –tap-
tap- tap-
The rope slaps with clapping girls
Singing past the mating calls
Hissing from glitter fenders at snappy fingers
The hoop ears with stoop scuffs on stringy rears
They only stop when the weasel pops on postered trucks
Fabric rises like war filled spears
The crowd’s amok
Between flickering lights and clashing beers

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 4/28/2008

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

I wanted to wait until summer to put this up, but with the freezing temperatures and snow as of late – I guess I became summer sick.

This was inspired by what my neighborhood was like as we neared the Puerto Rican parade in the summer. Bushwick was full of pidaqua stands, salsa booming from the cars with giant flags draped across their trunks, street merchants selling all sorts knick knacks, kids playing hand ball in the parks, jump rope, ice cream trucks – man it was the place to be! If there’s one thing I miss since moving to the Bronx, it’s that Latin fever that happens once the summer rolls around, nothing beats that atmosphere. Nothing. Nada. I haven’t found a chuchifrito place around here yet that sells coquito, and that makes a girl a bit home sick…