Night: January 15th 2010

by Mike Meraz

the cops pull me over.
the cops ask my name.
the cops take me out of my car.
the cops frisk me up and down.
the cops put me into their squad car.
the cops ask me questions.
they hand cuff me.
they take me to their jail.
they sit me down.
they say I have 3 phone calls.
I call my sister
my aunt
and my lawyer.
I walk out of jail
and into the cold night air.
with no car.
and 100 dollars in my pocket..

I ask a man,
"which way is Heaven?"
he says, "that way."

I head “that way” thinking,
"I have to change."

The God of Wrath vs. The God of Mercy

by Mike Meraz

she told me,
if you knew me,
you would know
I’m a great believer
in revenge.


I told her,
I’m new
testament,
baby.
I’m “turn
the other cheek.”

Mother, I’m All Alone

by Mike Meraz

mother, I’m all alone.

let me sit on top of the kitchen counter
and listen to you speak.

mother, I’m all alone.

let me peek through the crack
in the bathroom door
and watch you put on your make-up.

mother, I’m all alone.

kiss me on the back of the neck
or pass by while I watch TV.

twist and writhe on the living room couch
while father begs you to come back
and I tell you to leave.

Let's Leave A Mark

by Mike Meraz

let's leave a mark so shallow
it will only take a few years to erase.
a mark void of risk, without emotion,
hidden behind suburban walls and plastic faces;
never showing a damn clue we were alive
or human, or in need of something more
than the daily grind.

let's live in fear of being found out
our thoughts run deeper than sex, food
and bank accounts; that we are in need,
in need, in dire need of meaning and love,
true love, unfound in dirt, walls,
dollar bills and shopping malls.

Rain Drops

by Mike Meraz

rain drops
like a thousand nights before.
nothing has changed.
"nothing ever changes,"
he said to me two days ago.
his vacant words
hit dimly on my soul,
like a lie, or a half truth
that wants to be made whole.
"it changes," I thought,
and moves
and breaks
and turns
and even feels pain.
but you refuse to accept it,
to feel it.
it is easier to say,
"nothing ever changes."
to let it ride,
to give in,
to allow it to take hold,
while you ponder your mistakes,
the ones you have made
over and over again.
it is easier to swallow booze,
to take drugs,
to drag on the cigarette,
to turn on the TV
and forget
how it all has gone wrong.
it is easier
to stand by the butcher block
and turn to the young man
half your age,
full of hope and dreams,
and say to him,
with your jaded wisdom,
"nothing ever changes."

hell it does!

as this angry pen
hits this flinching paper,

hell it does!

Stride

By Mike Meraz

there is this woman
talking to me
(currently)
she has nice
legs
she whispers
with her eyes
she is married
and lonely
her husband
tells her on the
phone
"my girlfriend
is here, I'll
talk to ya later."
she takes it
in stride
she takes
everything
in
stride.