(from Dokkodo, Volume 1; The Way of Walking Alone)

It was over a pair of carne asada tacos
sizzle of the beef still fresh
¡sás!
se las tumbaron
cilantro floated so heavenly. Towards
the floor.

Isaac stood there, motionless
Ang Lee film interpretation
a ninja would’ve crouched down and
hidden a dragon.

Guacamole has a way
of staying together in any circumstance
unlike family.

It was over
a pair of carne asada tacos.

Rolo didn’t mean to, but sort of did.
His arm slipped, a gentle hard slip
like brothers do all the time.
All
the time.

Isaac had a choice to make.
Empty styrofoam taco tray in one hand
agua de tamarindo in the other.

Isaac had a choice to make.

His choice was clear.
Smear.
Smear that guacamole covered corner
tray on Rolo’s hair.

This poem is part of my last poetry and photography chapbook, “Dokkodo; Volume 1—The Way of Walking Alone” available online at http://mkt.com/smiley-faze.