Month: August 2019

ridgewood

NYC 14.JPG
--
roaches killed our fish again,
roaches killed our dinner.

how my cuzzos' gettin' fat,
i'm just gettin' thinner.

rats on rats on rats again,
"oh no, that's no conejo."

pissed my pants
every day,
think i grew up late.

think i grew up great.

ridgewood, queens
deli things
sour icees,
latin kings

gameboy color,
crack the hydrants,
stressless summers

daytime sirens
wizzing by.
nighttime street race
lullaby. 

and it wasn't all bad,
my brothers and my cousins
were all i had.

loved my mother,
loved my dad.

never called him that.
it was too soon.

we left the city too soon.

but once in a blue moon,
i find myself in that
little apartment again.

where everything i knew
and loved were within
arm's reach.

sometimes i find myself in 
ridgewood, queens.
-- 

"ridgewood"
©Steven Cuenca
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the place i stay

nintendo 2


there’s a puddle of spit that lay
in the place i stay
where there’s smoke that sprays
from my mouth to the moonlight.

it’s a type of howl, i guess.
all the day that’s left
building up to my chest
and exploding.

it’s the only way i sleep,
such a monkey sheep,
finding medicine that works
only sometimes.

and she hates it.
i was ugly before
and she took it.
but i’m uglier now,
my eyes are crooked.
my face is numb,
my face is dumb,
i’m stupid.

but i can count by twos
and tie my shoes
like a turtle do.

she loves me,
but that hurdle grew.

used to make her cheese,
she watched me curdle too.

but porch days
are porch grays,
we awake
with heartache.

so there’s a puddle of spit that lay
in the place i stay
where there’s smoke that sprays
from my mouth to the moonlight.

“the place i stay”
©Steven Cuenca