For twenty-five years of his lifehe washed dried egg yolk andgrease from lackluster platesuntil his aging hands ached badly,turning a hideous, ruddy tonefrom steaming, soapy waters.For twenty-five years of his life,he heard American voices cruellymocking his own native tongue:"
Oye, tu, Jose
Always demeaning, always demanding,always with a sense of ridicule.For twenty-five years of his lifehe watched his children lose hope,his wife become sickly and old;and he often thought it quite oddthat those who believe in Godshould have to suffer the most.For twenty-five years of his lifehe worked hard for
,accommodating his every demand;until one cold day he was toldthat he was getting too old,abruptly replaced by a much younger face.For twenty-five dollars he bought a gun,then drunk with despair shot
;and laughed at his own trial,and cried when his wife cried,and went to
accused of being the criminal.
I LOVE YOU
By: Louis CepedaI love you, I wishthere was more to say.
But it‟s that simple,
it‟s that strange.
I wish I could describe it,I know a woman needs that.But I just love you,that alluring mouth,those soulful eyes,your delicate touch.