tipped hair, sells me
my first marigolds, sees
my dragon tattoo, says
he wants one, wants to
go to Japan, learn
kung fu, his words,
desires, tumble out, he
is poor, makes maybe
40 pesos a day, maybe
he'll get the dragon
tattoo, his eyes freshly
crushed hope, is this
you uncle Ruben,
you who left the body at
twenty-one with so many
young man's desires, your
talents (entire violin concertos
by memory), your taboo
lovers in the 1930s Los Angeles
(other young men), your
passions, I imagine to
travel to Paris, Venice, Tokyo,
other wonders- I just
returned from Paris, whispered
your name upon seeing the
Eiffel Tower, and I know
I'll reach Venice, even
Tokyo, so for you, the
teen boy with spiky blue
hair, whispered wonders-
a piece of your spirit
always with me, secret
stories from your mother,
sister, the brilliant boy,
young man, burning with
taboo life, know I
embrace who you were,
who you longed to be,
who you may be. Now.
To mi tio, Ruben Villanueva
Dia de Los Muertos, 2010
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
Life/death/life/death/life into the Sixth World...
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