Author: Vicente Zeta Colacion

Written: March 14, 2021

Destiny manifest is relative

Though the direction is bound homeward

True West

Away from the sunrise

Towards the shore

The place with lavender lemonade,

Easy exhalations,

Sentences made into natural couplets,

Intertwined like fingers.

In the moonlight,

Perception of depth differs.

The stars feel as close as the constellations,

Of moles on your back.

The Golden Gate Bridge is made of matchsticks.

Hwy 101 is the path

From your garden to the chicken coop

And

“I love you”

Is a sentence that stretches infinitely.

Written: March 28, 2021

Looking kind of haunted,

Trying to find the interstate.

Oscillating between turning the radio all the way down and all the way up

Silencing Lana del Ray

So I can isolate my inveterate flaws

If I could find the loose wire in this 1994 Volvo,

Then maybe I could locate the crooked artery adjacent to my aorta

Sometimes, I don’t know my own heart,

Sweetheart.

Best intentions splinter and fail

But wait, (they don’t love you like I love you)

Once, a woman that I had never met before

Told me that I had the saddest eyes she had ever seen

I thought it was a line until she said

Most people don’t notice, huh?

Now, I’m looking kind of tired

Trying to find the last exit home

Mist in my rearview, head full of benedictions

I would like to speak to the manager about my life

The room was really supposed to have a view

I was told

There would be a view.

Written April 2021

Curiosity is my very favorite feeling to feel
I may be an old dog,
But I don’t know a single trick
Teach me mama
Oh please teach me to stay
Teach me to sit
And teach me how to heal

I light out running when,
I see something through the fence
I got a thirst for trouble
I can never seem to quench
I got a woman way back over those state lines
I got a woman, but lord knows she isn’t mine
One night she fell, while howling
A song up at the moon
I heard it in the distance
And I still hum the tune

Im an old dog
But I sure don’t know any tricks
Teach me mama
Teach me not to go
Teach me how to love
Oh please teach me how to be still

I got the notion
That I’m running out of time
I got the notion
And it tastes like spoiled wine
This life I’m living
Will see me buried neath the porch
I’ve a place to stay but never had a home
Surrounded by people
Perpetually alone
Please pray mama
So I can find a way
To teach myself
How to become a loving man