It was 1AM and they had just made love on the brown futon in the living room. It was late but still loud from the trucks rumbling up Ashland Ave. and the fan they’d pointed at themselves. When they were done they slowed down and their minds came back to them they lay together, holding each other, feeling the sweat that made the sheets cling to their backs, staring at each other’s face in the streetlight that made its way through the blinds.
“I love you,” she said, smiling.
“I love you too,” he said. He smiled too, and looked down to the condom still on him. “I’m gonna go take this off,” he said, and kissed her.
You were there playing
Hockey in its streets
Countless winter days
Thinking like a Blackhawk
And swinging your crude
Stick hard–like a pro
In the steely gray
You were there when spring
Arrived dressed in green
With a florid face
And you happily
For a fresh game
Softball at Dvorak
Park and held your breath
Expecting your friends
(And a certain girl
You fell for) to show.
The all-night taco stand simmers in the
midnight heat. The unsaid social group meets again
for yet another round of comradeship and slurred
serenades to themselves. Before stepping out the
door to the Street of Oblivion, they order one
more taco de sesos for the road, in a last-ditch
attempt to access higher levels of intelligence.
I found you in a bar
that feels like Mexico in the early 90s
the bar where everyone’s dad
used to get fucked up,
my friend Genesis would say.
It’s a space idle and frozen in time,
stuck between the U.S. border and gentrification,
the kind of bar I imagine my father’s father sitting in
drunk on communism and tequila.