The mother ignored

 I heard her story 
Full of frustrating details
Her face said something about being ignored.

She sought kindness but also intimacy
She was to give herself to another man to recieve that energy.
Unsure of where it would take her and if it would satisfy.

For her life as it stood was work and children, both she loved.
And her life was full of love, good enough for gratitude.
But without affection life has no reward.

The weekly slog was dread married on paper but a functioning widow.
She didn't look for a way out or let herself fall.
All she could do was force herself to focus on the shame.

The way you talk to God

 Some brag they talk with God through precious sculpture.
Through marvellous interpretation of scripture.
Through personal convcition of divine right.

But it's just a routine well practiced by some.
Their alterior motives sooner or later present themselves.
Some talk to God and noone else and get passed over by the lot.
For their advice is hard to hear.

The hardest thing to do on this earth made for war, is to forgive.
Forgive another human being for something they probably did out of fear.
Noticing your own fear, your own limitations simultaneously.
Moving forward a little by letting those energies walk away.
God will still be all ears to your words.

Basca Pie

 Give me a sour cheesecake with extra burst.
With incendiary impact on the tongue.
Ammunition for the day.
Something the fork can't leave alone.
A fork that needs to scramble and scratch.

The creaminess and sweetness bittering the coffee beyond it's typical bite.
Pump the Basca sideways with cappucino ambush.
A sip and a mouthful until both plate and mug are completely lacking.
The mouth and stomach still lacking.

Cheese found

 I marched in like I owned the place, seek arrogance, listen to the sound of the door opne and shut.
Everything that awaited was aromatic and homemade.
Some of it so over priced I felt myself turning into a real life donkey.
Hats and boots, fruits and honey.
Finally I found cheese and walked out a happy bee.
My next week of dairy fix all supplied.
The oncoming tourists trying to see the items stacked inside my sack.

No Parking

 W were trying to imagine a place to park on the narrow street.
We couldn't do it.
The street was made up of rectangle pavers, making up the downtown of sweet Cunha.
We eventually found a park up the hill.
With a view of the deep backside of the village.

I declared. "I need to build."
"I need to live."
So we made our way down three pm. Well rested.
The angle of April, shadow gleeful and lit up.
Spring in our step, Autumn joined.
Waking to coffee fumes and baked pine nuts.

From Rage and Hostility

 Mother hostility where may I find peace.
Father Rage is this world truly mine.

Mother hostility.
Have I no utility?
Father Rage.
Must I just fill the page?

Emotion distilling my image.
So i take my pen unwillingly.
I write for love, not for promise of wage.
I conjure creativity.

Savage vocabulary makes me mage.
Brain that devours demons my veiled abilities.
The skull it's human cage.

Dutra departure

 Running down from the bus station.
I wasn't going with her anymore.
Those sunday sunsets wouldn't be watched together.
She had to do it alone, make her way there and back.

Sitting in the polished plastic with her backpack .
looking down at her cellphone.
In that constant transit of all places.
Waiting to get on, waiting to get off.

I wasn't there, and trip was made by her alone.
I wouldn't accompany her and instead spend this time apart.
The big block of a bus station with a seat just for her.
Clock hands callus, morning hours develop rash.

She's getting ready to leave.
She's waiting in the line with her ticket out.
She's anticipating the way back.
To her childhood home.

Then she's gone back to the old smoke.
Rolling through the valley,
lost in her thoughts.
Away from me her husband.

Every hour of this precious hour of this life,
intangible uncatchable.
I am unable to convey this love.
Caught in the chaotic vortex of my own mind.

Caught in those transit points of thought.
Those big waiting lounges in my head.
I am separated just watching time pour out.
She is miles away.

The road bellows from Dutra highway.
Telling me it's time.
speaking with a mouth full of cars and buses,
with the anger of berms on fire.

shouting- You fool! Follow her.