New York Poem

Its the end of the road and I couldn't help it.

Mammoth mothers and fathers out to save us.

Its fifty talons to the sea shores.

Take me away to your mortality.

I wish I could do this longer.

Two hands for a good thunderclap.

We all need a good bed bug.

Hope to get the best from you.

I wrote a poem on the plane, at the airport, in Brooklyn the past week that sums up my New York stay and the summer; I'm crossing fingers.

Raul Munoz
“Desert City; Rooftop Wet Meets River Breeze (ATXNYC)”

(1): Crying and laughing sound the same, save for the
Obvious pitch. In fact, they are brother and brother
Aligning the same emotion: celebration misery.

(2): You worry too much about your façade
Wrinkling you forgot how to dance. Let
That cocaine slur reach the blacktop.

(3): Am I a late buzz for your morning-after
Wake? When the shutter speed is ten you
Kiss a thirty. Holding devils on your palm,
Sprinkle pitchforks into my throat. Late messages.

(4): Natural History Museum. We saw the progress
Of man and taxidermy at the Natural History Museum.
We wanted to fucking steal every creature model and
Reproduced INDIAN artifacts and oblivion keepsakes.
(Conquest): Does not become at the surveyors office
But two-hundred years later window shopping their remains.

(5): I’m trying to have a moment in my aisle seat, something
Permanent but shades away from losing cabin pressure. Two siblings
Next to me, their embrace and their plane chat. I just need to see my
Brother.

(6): This summer is drinking and sweating. And driving and taking in the
Skyline: Five weeks in my state capital, then the epicenter of the earth.
But it’s the I love you’s and mom and I miss you’s that really get to me.

(7): I couldn't write a poem on the plane to Brooklyn. I tried Spanish, it
Made it worse. A truth all men soak their face. DADS REFLECTION ON
MY LAPTOP. Is it over? Is that what how my face will age? Will his
Tail stick to the sole of my shoe?

(8): It’s a forest of clouds from the window view and I keep reminding
Myself I’m an adult now. Time to get a job, apply for graduate school,
Serious writing, be a good son and brother. If I can keep the latter!

(9): 1987-2037.

(10): Grow up,