Film Photography > Poetry

Zuma which was Guillermo’s nickname.
Everyone had a pet name,
A shorter version of everyone,
Based on their personalities.
Thomas was named train
And Seraphina was always angel.

Zuma was always zipping around
In a hurry,
place to place.

Someone exclaims to the group -
Dear judge we have exhibit B of Guillermo’s
Life -Zoom Ahhhhh -he’s gone!

He wore red again because he was complimented at the drug store by a women in a red beret.
He was wearing a red sweater
A gift knitted by his late grandmother.

It had been a long time since a woman
Paid any attention to him,
Let alone converse so sweetly
in the isles.

We all decided in celebration of his new confidences,
to all wear a piece of clothing that was red,
in solidarity for the possibility of Zumas potential next
Date with the well fairing stranger.

We threw a small party to help muster
More confidence in his quixotic hummingbird
He had sweat beads rolling down his cheeks,
Like he was caught in a heat wave
Or caring for the kalahari desert.

We did some roll playing and helped with conversational leads,
Small topics so he wouldn’t be sitting across the dinner
Table from her in a diminished silence.

There should always be electrical signals
Vibrations between two,
Not a one way street of impulses,
Flowing of the blood in both directions
Head to toes and back
through the chambers of a heart.

After the gathering zuma
Meets maya at the small
Restaurant and they talk
About films and places they’ve

Childhood stories and family,
A small piece of key lime pie
Delivered in the tragedy after the comedy,

A sad day they each exchange to council
One another and share a compassionate
Moment to one another.

Auditory neurons increasing,
And amplified laughter from
Tiny chirpsand giggles,
Tear streaming smiling lines

Everything they exchange

Is Bouncing off all the turbulent noise,
Pollution and the external lights,
Flickering to distract
alongside the natural flow
Of the music.

Making small drawings on the condensation on the sides
of water glasses
Folding your dinner napkin into a swan or a hat

A duo linguistic nervousness
Within the
Union in this new moment.

Memory tapes whirling and recording.

On the walk home through the park
They are ridiculed by three single men
All jealous of two walking along the megahertz
They were in their own
Anechoic chamber

Like two fauns playfully
Skipping together in a dangerous wood
Driving a speed car through a record store
Not hitting anyone and parking majestically.

One man waving a bottle of vodka
Is this yours

He archaic grunts
Chortles the others to poke at zumas
New shoes and the way
He hold mayas arm
Under the stars.

She says not to mind them and they
Make their movements more dynamic
Like the crashing of large drums and
Cymbals in rise of music in a symphony
That frightens the Bully’s away.

Zuma comes up with a jingle
About yoga and wealth and love and loss
And a situation that led these men astray
In a teasing loving way that brings
Maya to uproarious laughter.

They embrace and whisper into each other’s ear

How was yoga?

How was yoga?