Softly drifting away from realities of life,

My ship has sailed away to a voyage of slumber.

All of a sudden—

A scream shrieks

Piercing through the billowing fog

My heart kicking my sternum.

A woman—No! A Man!

In the distance!

His silhouette comes through the fog

Like dirty transparencies from the 90’s

 

My eyes open

Yet I hear wails and screams

Echoing in my ear

Staying with me

As if they crossed over with me

From one world to another

Rats bring the Black Plague

Parasites

Scapegoats

 

HEEEEELP!

No, they didn’t.

Leaping out of my bed,

As a gazelle on the savannah,

Dashing to find the screams,

Running to find my grandfather,

Thrashing in bed.

Battling with pillows and linens

 

Grandpa…

 

GRANDPA!

I startled him

Stopping his war on sheets.

 

He looked at me with his fragility,

Sanded from the harsh grains of time,

Endless drapes of skin;

A clear expiration of this youth.

 

Where’s my Paula?

He weakly peeped

 

If I lie,

My grandmother will look down with shame,

My parents will be disgusted,

My nose will grow,

Until it painfully snaps from the length,

I will be cornered,

Stoned,

Pointed at,

They will scream,

Liar Liar Pants on Fire!

Condemned in pews.

You are not forgiven. 

 

If I lie,

I will be the worse granddaughter,

Ever.

 

Where’s my Paula?

WHERE’S MY PAULA?

But if I tell him the truth,

I will bring back

50 beautiful years of dancing,

Holding hands,

With a final anniversary in gold.

 

50 crazy years,

She drove him crazy,

He loved her for her soul.

 

50 trial years of ups and downs,

Being in love,

Sometimes broken-hearted

 

50 nostalgic years,

Now he’s all alone,

For 5 years she’s been departed.

 

If I tell the truth,

I condemn him to

Relive, re-mourn, re-suffer

Her death.

 

He’ll grab his forehead,

All drapes of skin falling forwards,

A twin tower about to collapse from the blow,

Bible in hand,

Tears sprinting down hills of skin,

Moaning,

Oh my Paula!

My Paulita!

 

It’s unbearable.

Inhumane.

I can’t.

 

“Oh Grandpa! Don’t you remember?!”

Baffled by the question

“She went shoppin’ with the girls!”

Relief washed away all confusion and panic

An Etch-A-Sketch shook to erase.

Snuggling in his bed,

Making himself home again

“Ay my Paulita loves her shopping!

When she gets back,

Tell her,

Pick me up some sweet bread and menudo.”

He chucked softly

I nodded as he drifted,

Peacefully on his ship,

Back to sleep.

Bon voyage, Grandpa.