street waifs stringing white flowers into long, fragrant necklaces, plucked them from the sky shook them from the tall green bushes until they fell like rain upon the grass —-
jasmine necklaces sold for devout señoras to wear at Flores de Mayo processions five centavos for all that work, three if señoras haggled long enough —-
were you one of the little ones hands baked by the sun, wide-eyed, barefoot, hungry?
how time comes and leaves so swiftly as in half a breath, as in a hurried dream, and for whatever reason there may have been I came to be —-
older folks would tell me you walked miles to school, no centavos for a ride, and your classmates laughed and sneered as they rode the bus and passed you by, you walked on carrying your dreams in your heart.
how time comes and leaves so swiftly as in half a breath, as in a hurried dream, and you are gone —-
tonight as I recall the tales of folks from long ago I drench my pillow with the fragrant tears of white jasmine flowers through the midnight hours, into the break of dawn.
Under the waning moon and buried light of forgotten sunsets stealthy diamonds gleam in the nebulous sky but the heart of darkness roams blind and wild drowned in flashbacks of furtive flesh-cuttings from silent sword slashes —
I dare not ask nor should you —
beyond the forgetting billows of white-capped waves return birthed by the half-lit moon.
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