Letters And You
Poem by Daphne Guzmán
Photo by Deborah Guzmán

Just in case I was starting
to get comfortable, you
make an overt gesture
to let me know my time
is up.  Having no class

to ring a bell or pat my back—
you spring
nervously from my company
and run like hell in the other direction.   I stand
bewildered, wondering
how personable I can possibly be.  “Very” I decide,
“This kid don’t know shit.”    Indeed
I am personable. Able to fine tune
the degree of madness I put off.  
Holding back punches for when I decide
I really hate you.  And don’t worry

because when I find you I’ll empty
the contents of my mind all over
you, till you are so soaked with me
that I start to spill on the floor.