I was in Chuy and Kiko Eatery when this happened. From Pablo C. Bueno’s wake. Dated 11 March 2012 from my pocket journal, unedited.
The Eternal Adoration A million steps and a thousand falls are etched onto the skin of these floors and walls. Each gentler and rough step, or hesitant footfall (your first step, your last) is recorded by the shifting dust and the nanoscopic press and release of (surface) molecules. This is your home, your house. Your eternal witness. And I see the walls now, and I wonder. Have they seen your dramatic years, your shouting visage, your skin-raising fears? Did they tremble at your fist, or did they stand firm as your knuckles bled. I wonder-- Even more. Does your home miss you? This piece of land soaked in generations of blood and family and history. Will the earth weep for you? Or does it ignore you, as unfamiliar walls will? Will you be another memory, something to laugh at or weep, to shake one's head at when the urge to reminiscence grows deep? Families forget, lovers recover. Will you be the ghost that fondly haunts their halls -a wisp? Until new generations rise and you are, finally, forgotten. But perhaps this "home" stands different. These old frames and worn-out seats have seen you, have borne you from darkness and have loved you. Your very nature has been embedded onto these halls. And concrete and steel will last longer than the hearts of grieving men, so quick to forget. These foundations are meant to last, built to protect, to shelter and defend --all that has passed, all that is passing, all that will pass. And so, your blood and bones may turn to dust, your body may leave and fly, but the walls of this place (your true confidant), the ground at your feet (your first bearer) will echo your name, your spirit. Forever.
Vintage Green and white ruffles A seat and a thousand words The laughter of your friends tables and cables away These are the things you will forget. What you'll recall is this Your non-smile The persons next to you The style of your dress and the shape of the table (because the picture is black and white and I can't remember anything else).
Occasion The guestbook holds no positive reviews. Five, Six, Seven Haikus on loneliness Her eyes are searching this gray world for color She does not understand. . No. Yes. No. Maybe. They cannot (and won't) decide And yet (they just did). . Immobility commands and tears my body All this hurt, unsaid.