EL PASAJERO

That afternoon while looking out of the window of “El Pasajero” staring into the green mountainous scenery she gives a nervous chuckle. It’s been many decades now since she and her husband last took this particular route on this bus known simply by it’s Spanish nickname, “The Traveler.” Really it’s a chuckle of reflection and disbelief because the last time they rode it together was over thirty years ago, it was going the opposite way and they were a young newlywed couple on their way to “el norte” seeking that better life. But, now their kids are all out of the house, either married or gainfully employed responsible adults. She can’t believe that after so many decades they’re about to go on a vacation back to the motherland provided by their children as an anniversary gift. “you worry too much” he tells her jokingly as he notices that she’s lost in thought while staring at the mountains. Not missing a step she quickly replies, “you don’t worry enough” he nods his head and chuckles too. They’re on their way back to their hometown where throughout the many years in the states they dreamt, chipped away and finally managed to save up enough earnings to build a nice two floor house out in the pueblo for when the Tio’s time came to retire. It was no easy task and the project itself had it’s typical setbacks, this isn’t that final retirement trip however, this particular one is to give the property the final once over and oversee the final stages, selecting floor tiles, furnishing, and of course local taxes. They’re about half way into their trip as they pull into the next town, the bus driver tells the passengers that he’ll be refueling and they’ll be taking a 15 minute break. They ask each other if they need to step out if even for just a stretch, they’re both okay. As passengers exit and enter they suddenly hear a voice coming from outside, “tio!” “tia” they realize that they’re talking to them and as Tio takes a closer look he realizes that he knows that face, the spitting image of his sister. It’s one of his nephews, “Emmanuel!” he says in a stunned tone. It’s sure enough his nephew now in his late twenties, it didn’t take him but five seconds to recognize his face even though the last time he saw Emmanuel he was no more than ten. He tells them to get off the bus and grab their belongings. Emma as he’s known has been waiting with his brother at that towns bus terminal for about an hour. “As soon as our mom told us you called saying you were on your way to the pueblo we got into our car and decided to come pick you up” they exit the bus and when the driver returns from the restroom they ask for their belongings, Emmanuel quickly picks up their luggage “hay Emma, you don’t have to do that” Tia tells him slightly embarrassed “you’ve been traveling all day and I’m sure you’re tired, it’s no problem”is his reply. A fairly well maintained older model four door Volkswagen drives up and out comes Emma’s older brother Uriel, “Uri!” tio says “como estas hijo, no se hubieran molestado” Uri hugs Tio and Tia and tells them that its no problem, he says, “we were arriving from another pueblo’s fiesta when our mom told us that you called saying you were getting on ‘El Pasajero’ on your way to town so we decided to surprise you here at midpoint and get you home quicker while the sun is still out. “You boys staying out of trouble at the fiestas?” tia asks to which Uriel replies, “no more than usual Tia, how are the cousins doing out en el norte?” Tio says, “working hard and even making us grandparents in the process” he says laughingly, “when are they coming out to visit?” if we can finalize a few more things at the house it’ll be sooner than you think” Tio is in awe of the paved road that now leads to his native pueblo, he tells his nephews about how back when he was younger than they are now it would have taken a better part of the day getting to and from the main city out to the country. He reiterates to his nephews that they didn’t have to go out of their way to pick them up, that they were only three or four hours from their destination which given what he was used to years back was a fairly quick ride. Uriel said, “now that path has been paved we’ll be having an early dinner in an hour if not less. He tells Tio and Tia that since their going at a faster speed than “El Pasajero” and not making anymore stops, they’d have them enjoying fresh mountain air that up to that point was merely a fond memory in no time. Tio tells them how appreciative he is that they’ve been occasionally keeping an eye on their work in progress, Emma tells him, “the pictures we’ve sent you here and there don’t do the property real justice, when you see it in person you’re going to be amazed!” “yeah Tio” adds Uri, “it’s been a pleasure looking over the property we can’t wait till the primos come check it out and stay there, they’re not going to want to leave the sierra, watch.” “I’m sure they wont want to mijo” tia replies. Although its been decades since they were last in that soil, they still remember the different towns leading up to theirs, they point them out and in their minds the reality of reaching a lifelong dream begins to sink in. The nephews quickly look in the mirrors and notice that Tio and Tia have both gone quiet while looking out the car window, the paved road ascends and they’re at the same altitude as the clouds. Tio is finally comfortable enough to lower his window and catch his first breathe of fresh country air, he does so only because he notices the slight mist building up as they get closer to town. “Hay muchachos” he says happily “the air smells just the way I remember it as a child when I was growing up with your other aunts and uncles” Uri replies with “yeah my brother and I prefer hopping from pueblo to pueblo out here for their fiestas than to go out to the city, the air is to polluted for us out there” As Uri makes a final winding turn along the road Tia points out a town marker that reads “Santa Maria Yalina” to which Tio looks at it with eyes wide open. As the nephews drive past it Tio asks them “it’s been so many years but if I’m not mistaken the pueblo coming up after Yalina is Zoogocho isn’t it?” Uri stretches his arm out and points off at the distance with his left hand, “it’s coming up Tio, that right there is Solaga off in the distance and Zoogocho is directly across from it” to which tio jokingly tells him, “I remember that much much boys” “es que ya esta viejo tu tio” tia adds with a smile, they all laugh. The sun has begun setting and there is a slight breeze but tio and tia don’t mind because it’s been several years since they last felt in that fresh air, “mire Tio, it’s getting dark and you would’ve still been an hour or two away” Emma says and points straight ahead. There’s still enough light in the day that they can easily make out the words in the coming town marker, “San Baltazar Yatzachi el Bajo” the pueblo where Tio was born. The nephews tell them, “we’ll help you tomorrow with any chores you have pending but as for tonight we’ll have a good meal with some warm coffee, mom made a fresh batch of bread just for you, we’ll have a few slices while you catch up with her” Tio and Tia both smiled with relief, they’ve arrived. THE END.

love poem

Our past, a legit blast I don’t think many grasped How what we had No one has, I’ll remember you As is As this Perfect form of bliss Now, on starry skies I don’t Bother with the, “why’s” Forgot the good times And the lies What we had Was simply Yours and mine Moved onto Different charms And different arms

P£G BUNĐ¥

I wanna be a quick badguy fling
in ur black & white flick
We'll commit capers
we'll make the plot thick
Same alibi and make our story stick
End ratchet but begin humbly
Breakfast at Tiffany's
meets Peg Bundy
Keep u enamored keep u company
Two miscreants lusting nonchalantly
Neckline and hair length
all of a sudden haunt me
A streetwise book smart Bogart no-ir
After a dame with no heart
I'll play my role if u do ur part
Just for fun keep it subconscious
Highly aware that shes on to me
Lets create foreshadow hauntingly

Simply Elegant (rough draft WIP)

I was asked to share some of my rhymes at the a fundraising event for a friend that had recently passed. Long story short, a mutual third party acquaintance kept inadevrantly bringing us together. On this given night I was on my way to meeting up with said aqcuaintance but changed my plans last minute when
We'd been seeing each other plutonically at scattered moments all year long typically with friends, hanging out and eventually began chillin' together after work. For the first time since we'd met we were finally really talking, we've known each other for a few years now through our mutual musician friends but for the most part remained in our own different worlds. She'd just moved back to L.A. after having graduated film school, I noticed we kept seeing each other around more and more often at bars, shows or sometimes just with mutual homies. I eventually told her this but, for whatever reason I actually remember the last time I'd seen her really, I mean prior to this recent time. It was a few years back in Boyle Heights at a sushi bar on First and Soto. She was having a drink with a friend and when I brought it up she remembered. This was when the afore mentioned establishment was the local go to watering hole, quite possibly because apparently other than a Mexican restaurant down the street it was the only bar in all of Boyle Heights that had a full liquor license. It was one of those random afternoons long ago when the east side crew would casually walk in ten deep with the sole intention of a round or two and end up staggering out after last call thirty of us on our way to the after hours just next door at the billiard bar. I asked her something to the effect of why she was out of town but said that Boyle Heights was actually her neighborhood, we left it at that, as she walked out with her friend for whatever reason she handed me her glass of beer, the night went as most nights did, rolling into the next day, a social justice action, a band practice, an open mic, a show, an after party, that was that.

For her frame and being vegan she sure eats alot, let me tell you. We met up in little tokyo once and she wanted ramen from the spot with the anime characters on the walls on first between Central and San Pedro, as soon as she made herself comfortable she looked at me and with a buzzed and stoned smile said, "I'm a tragona"

Last time we kicked it we had whiskey and beer at a spot where she got hooked up by the bartender, I told her "we'll blaze all night" she was down, three feet of space and a clear understanding at all times. It would be an understatement to say she is a certified cabrona and proud of it, at some random point that night while sharing a cig I told her, "I see you have several guards up and its very clear that you verbalize your issues with me bluntly but I'm actively trying, and I havent wanted to try in a really long time" she merely reiterated that she is well aware of my lifestyle as am I of hers.

Last

8:13 a.m.

Bad bitch, boss bitch
Nah fuck it, Queen I mean TBH
trying to be down w the team
Coltrane sized - love supreme
Dont wake me up
if this IS just a dream,
She's always telling me
I go into extremes
But when it comes to writing
I'm just one w the fiends
One thing to note,
she doesnt play with her screens
On me, rhythm and knowledge
Thick in those genes
But, best of all when I'm down..
She feeds me self esteem

Full Moon

(Pack of Swishers and a good whiskey)

Pack of Swishers and a good whiskey
Ghetto blaster blasting Sabbath tipsy
She next to me, both of us half trippy
Full moon all night burning dank sticky
Mastered the moves ever so quickly
Strictly emotion, was sippin the potion
Whatever it takes to taste me a portion
Yet to be sent away for raw emotion
Honestly in notion dont think im wrong
Her presence at all times an explosion
I'm talking top shelf hella super bomb
Fly gal I dread the day when shes gone
Even then her actions, forever calm
Homegirl is full of that old hood charm
Ended the night projecting thru songs
Serenating her streets all night strong

THE WALK

THE WALK

Part 1

It was about a quarter to Four on that afternoon, I’m on the escalator going up and getting off at the First Street/ Civic Center train station in downtown L.A. right by old Bunker Hill. I finished half a joint I had left as I strolled by the Federal buildings, adjacent is the Times building. The weather was just right, not too windy and just the right amount of Sun to supplement the mood. I’d just narrowly beaten the afternoon commuter rush as planned. It had to have been mid-week on a day off from work and just to set the tone right, I was already pretty faded before this whole story begins. I’m walking calmly up the hill on Broadway towards Temple crossing Grand Park, on this particular occasion she was wrapping up a work meeting inside one of the conference rooms in the Los Angeles Cathedral (of all places) and so never the less I’m making my way.

I clearly hear the bells ringing marking a new hour but more importantly they let me know that on this particular day, I’m right on time. I wait next to the waterfall within the courtyard in front of the Cathedral doors, best I can recall she’s dressed in her young professional look with a pantsuit ensemble that hug her frame ever so appropriately. As soon as I see her I immediately asked if I could carry her bag, she quickly hands me it and luckily its light baggage, we we’re ready now and off we go to enjoy our day together.

As we cross the criminal court building she smilingly asks if I have the herb I’d promised earlier that morning, I showed her two fat joints I’d rolled on the train ride over that I’ve had in the palm of my hand the since waiting inside the cathedral. We continue walking downhill on Temple passing City Hall on our right just as the rest of downtown was also beginning to wrap up its day. She decided to make our first stop by the stairs of the on the north eastside of Main and Temple in “Bowron Square” a place that isn’t known so much for its name as it is for it’s infamous “Triforium” a sixty foot art/ light installation that since the 70’s has either been masterpiece or an eyesore waste of tax payer money depending on one’s artistic eye.

Part 2

Five or six teens were skating while recoding each other doing tricks in the now empty courtyard. We found a cool little shaded area where we made ourselves comfortable and began smoking the bigger of the two joint while watching the kids skate eventually becoming comfortable enough to cheer them with every successful trick they did. That is until she began egging on one the younger teens that kept failing at every trick he tried to do. The other skaters noticed we were smoking as were they and began to pick on the poor kid.

She eventually felt bad that the other kids were picking on the one because of her so we quietly got up and left half way into the second joint. By now It’s around five and we remembered that not only was the Far Bar down the street and serving $3 Happy Hour Sapporo’s but, it was also on the way to the Little Tokyo train station which is where we were headed anyway, I’m still carrying her bag but at this point it’s become weightless to me. We make our way towards Little Tokyo and after having passed Police headquarters and finishing that last roach we end up in the back area of the Far Bar patio, the Far Bar being one of the older and still standing watering holes in L.A. that’s located between an outdoor corridor separated by two brick buildings that are both about as old as the city its self.

I put her bag on an empty seat next to me, as she excuses herself for a few minutes I ask for a quick single beer which I quickly chug before she arrives. Two rounds later while joking with the bartender I tell her about Angela Rye a fairly well known news commentator that is in town and speaking later that evening at the California African American Museum in her neighborhood. She’s intrigued because that too is also conveniently on her way home and is by now well aware that I’ll be carrying her things for the remainder of our day. Being that she was going to be so close to afew train stations on this day she opted for leaving her car home and making it a day for on foot city adventures, my specialty, hence her early morning heads up.

We have a glass of water each as a last round before making our way towards USC by way of the Gold Line/ Red Line/ Expo line, I still have herb enough for the trip and everything is still going as scheduled. By the time we exit Jefferson and Maple in West Adams the sun’s already set, we head to the recently opened Trader Joe’s in the new USC village. We’re smoking our third joint casually while making witty stoney/ buzzed observations. I should note that she very much enjoyed the look other commuters gave me as I casually broke up weed and rolled that joint calmly and confidently during the evening rush train ride back. I have a fully loaded EBT card and tell her we can get snacks at TJ's to munch while we’re at the talk. You see, since the early morning I’ve planned the day out this far ahead. I’ve had a second option for every one she might reject but so far and unbeknownst to her everything’s still going according to plan.

Part 3

At this point now the day has turned into a clear evening and we’re crossing through the USC student village and making small talk about what potential shops will be in the still empty ground floor spaces, we share a caramel chocolate bar telling her that it’s my favorite Trader Joe's snack. We’re discreetly drinking a 9% beer each and having a cold cut chicken sandwich each, she’s chasing her beer with a tall coconut water. We’ve yet to feel rushed or tired this whole time and the walk has even served as a great way to balance the chill buzz we’ve managed to maintain, I’m now carrying her bag on one hand and a grocery bag with light snacks on the other, she's happy.

At his point she’s just now comfortably grabbing items in and out of her bag as needed, the only things she’s steadily held all day have been three joints, water and cold beer. We cut directly through the campus and casually stroll through the Rose Garden, well fed, still buzzed and hydrated. By the time we reach CAAM the large lobby area where the event is being held is completely packed. She notices the crowd and as I expected rather than wanting to leave she is further intrigued.

It’s now about 7:30pm, what was earlier a warm downtown afternoon has become a fresh, clear L.A. evening. The museum has temporarily stopped letting attendees in and to our benefit is running behind schedule. A staff member steps out and informs the outside crowd that because of the unexpected surge in guests they’ve cleared out an adjacent room to the speaking area and brought out large t.v. screens with a direct feed for anyone who’d like to stay and watch the speech. Because we happen to be sitting in an area by the entrance to that other room we become among the first in line and knowing we’re going to make it in we continue opening more snacks from the grocery bag I’ve been carrying.

That second room quickly reaches full capacity. As soon as we have a seat I place the bags I’ve been carrying in the space under my chair. She excuses herself to use the restroom and when returns clearly notices me gaging the gorgeous women present and sits by my side. Many of the female attendees are casually wearing their respective alma matter sweaters, she notices one wearing her former universities and tells me, “oh look, how cool” however, people are giving us cordial stares followed by a smile as we snack when I remember that by now we’ve now acquired a very noticeable strong marijuana odor.

Part 4

We exit the event as it winds down around 9:30ish or so and because the speech hax given us our third wind we agree on one final night cap at a nearby liquor store down the street on Figueroa just south of King. She tells me the speech was highly insightful being able to hear tidbits of what obstacles to expect as a young professional woman of color and such. I’m thankful that I’ve gone back to carrying her main bag.

While at the store I grab one last tall can, a small bottle of Jameson both of which we are going to share and a pack of blunts so we can call it a night and head our separate ways after one final fatty, she is still drinking her coconut water for continued hydration. By now it’s 10pm and she remembers there’s a dispensary not too far from where we’re at and she figures we might as well walk off the buzz and get herb for the next few days, she implies I can use the walk so I happily agree.

This is not something she would normally do but she’s treating herself because she knows tonight she’s safe with me. I tell her the dispensary closes at 11pm sharp so for the first time all day we pick up our pace. After cutting through a few streets we’re on Broadway and forty third and go into the shop with five minutes to spare. Female budtenders have always liked her purchasing style because of her genuine inquisitive nature to the point that they drop the sales push and offer the genuine good stuff at a discount price just because they like her attitude and tell us we’re a couple cute couple, we both brush off the comment with a smile say thank you just the same.

It’s a little after 11pm when we decide to finally make our way home but at a bus stop just outside the dispensary we bump into a random guy that also happens to be carrying grocery bags his are just currently sitting on the bus bench. He asks us for a lighter because it turns out he’d just rolled a joint but didn’t have a means to light it. She quickly engages him in small talk and he eventually offers us to smoke with him because he too happens to think we make a cute couple. He essentially tells me that it takes a lot of courage to have been walking all day with such a feminine bag yet still carry myself in a very secure masculine way and wants to reward my confidence by smoking us out. She tells me “take some medicine out of my bag and let’s share medicine with our new friend.”

We break out the small Jameson bottle and tell him about our day together, at this point we’ve made ourselves comfortable with our new found friend to the point that he begins opening up some snacks he purchased while shopping earlier to be more comfortable with her telling of our day’s events. As luck would have it he turns out to live by her and we all walk back together in our final direction. He offers to host us if we want to keep the party going but I nudge her and whisper to her that he might randomly break out heavy drugs. She politely declines his invitation but does give him the rest of the bottle of Jameson as gratitude for the company which he welcomes.

He goes about his way and we back to ours. We reach her place around midnight and I see her car parked in front of her place, I finally hand her bag and make sure she makes it in safe. I put my headphones on and calmly make my way home thinking that in all truth everything (right down to the unexpected compliments) went off exactly as I’d planned that morning over breakfast.

THE END.