"Childhood Ghost," "Down the Drain" and "Two Weeks"
Childhood Ghost
Childhood ghost
you are so far away
in the dusty streets
of Zacatepec now
paved; where you
pretended to ride
a horse on a broomstick,
which was also a sword
to ward off bullies;
in these streets where
you got a deserved
spanking from your
loving abuelo for chasing
behind trucks carrying
sugarcanes just to pry
one loose for a snack.
Childhood ghost,
you never had it so
good, and you never will.
Down the Drain
It does not matter
how green the money is.
It is still going down the drain,
where rats will fight over it.
It does not matter
how crisp the money is.
It will end up in the sewers
all wrinkled and wet
and the rats will wipe
their asses with it.
The more you make,
the more they take,
and if you have vices
much stronger than needs
it will go down the drain.
It will slip through your
fingers as you feed your pain
that will never go away.
Two Weeks
Two weeks ago
he was running
naked in the
streets with two shirts
wrapped around his
feet like shoes to
get around. A
few weeks in the
psych ward he was
declared sane and
released to his
own care after
promising to
take medicine,
a promise he
is sure to break
like all the times
before. It is
a miracle how
two weeks can change
a man. It is
a miracle he
is still alive
like some cat that
is down to his
eight or ninth life.
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in West Covina, CA, works in Los Angeles County, and is the author of Raw Materials (Pygmy Forest Press). His poetry, prose, and art has appeared in Blue Collar Review, Escape Into Life, Nerve Cowboy, Triggerfish, and Yellow Mama Magazine. His broadsides, chapbooks and poetry books have appeared in Alternating Current Press, Deadbeat Press, Four Feathers Press, Kendra Steiner Editions, New American Imagist, New Polish Beat, Poet's Democracy, Rogue Wolf Press, and Ten Pages Press. Luis recommends St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.