Maria A Arana

Footprints
 
(past)
by the window
I stand
sun beams
wave through blinds
darkness fills the room
words light up
kill time to make time
(present)
out the door
hitting the pedal
to run the horsepower
to my ride
keeping it loose
as roads converge
and split
accelerate and break
natural and artificial lights
guide the way
bloom and leaves skitter
(future)
across campus
through a myriad of doors
confusion concussion
birds twittering tune ups
classes fill time
feet pitter patter to the beat
forming outdoors
the strong sense of hope
wonderment
easing the path
cultivated from inside 

 
 
i am not that person…
 
i am not that person
the one holding his hand
admiring his dimple chin two feet above me
breathing in his aftershave and the usual body odor that makes him him
 
i am not that person
the one smiling at jack rabbits promenade around the court
paying attention to their tails swaying with each leap
allowing his hand to trace my shoulder blades under the shade
 
i am not that person
the one joining your friends
laughing at insane jokes about masturbation
keeping mouth shut with thread while his hand attaches to my spine
 
i am not that person
the one looking for the window
searching for the latch
training me to be invisible during the rerun
 
i am not that person
 
 

first time on a beach
 
didn’t know sand could be wet
seeping through my toes wet
horchata made with salt wet
stuck on skin sparkle wet
itchy cool wet
sand soft getting in your eye wet
hands let sand loose onto hair wet
wait for the waves to roll around and wet
body mimicking waves wet
taking sand home wet
in my bath tub wet

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