She will always be

It rains in the evening
like sweat from lovers
hard like the pressing
of a lover’s fingers

It is hot in the days
dry so much that the
lover’s skin is red
before the lunch is ready

I do not eat lunch. I wait
for my lover, for the rain

We eat and She points to the
swollen abdomen

She is sensitive,
but with time it will wane.
__________________________________________________________

Where was the easiness?

Bright colors dulled by
oil,
like her thinking of her
beauty.

Him trying to eat individual grains
with a fork;
asking for less
and still asking how much.

Someday I’ll ask Her to a movie
He’s thinking,
or thinks or at least would be or has thought or has been.

I hate that microwave;
how could She not use it,
but look at my beans- around the edge
crisp, dried.

She doesn’t remember Me
these tortillas are hard and crisp…
and tasty-
Oh, bloody hell! I’m liking tostados now.

I wanted tortillas suaves when I started coming here
I know what I wanted; what I want.

I love what She did with these potatoes
nearly so little seasoning. Nearly subtle.

Edward Wells II lives in Mexico and teaches English as a Foreign Language. His most recent book hawrs was published by Calliope Nerve. You can find his page on Facebook.