By Brent Ameneyro

Ulysses in Puebla

By Brent Ameneyro

He cleans his lips with two wipes of his Jorge Campos jersey. Damn that new kid in school. Damn him. Hope he trips and can’t play for a few weeks. Churros or a chicharron. Choices. He has tainted recess with his flashy moves. Tainted. Elias from Argentina. Chucho with his black hair slicked back. This boy from California walking through the market with his family and his cracked tooth. The new kid with his strong kick. Too strong. The new kid kicked the ball and the boy from California spun around to block it. Fell on his face. Cracked his tooth. Churro. Yum. Stuck on the end of the sugary bread two flies buzzed, stuck. Hidden above the ash in the sky, a red-legged honeycreeper wanders the empty space. The sky. No sound. Flowers its feathers are, take this world and tuck it in your gentle wings, take this.