poetry fix: overpass
The last time I saw Alamar,
we were on a bed of buckets
next to a blue wheelbarrow.
He told me he grew up
with a horse named Casarejo.
Even though it wasn’t an Azteca,
his grandfather believed great names
held enough magic
to push dreams into being.
I told him about our dogs,
all three named Perro because
my mother said it kept things easy,
and life was hard enough.
yvonne melania lieblein
Credit: “Men Riding in Trucks” from Alejandro Cartagena’s
photo series of men riding in the back of trucks taken from a Mexican overpass.
Read this to my kids – everyone’s inspired!!
Thanks for being a poet, Yvonne!