Tag: writer

The One Where she watches it, and laughs

The One Where she watches it, and laughs It took so long I thought we wouldnever make it past season one.       When she said I’m not sure, it’s notthat funny, I decided then, on our first date that she would be the Chandlerto my Monica, which is to say that by season three, when she… Continue reading The One Where she watches it, and laughs

Trouble

Troubleby Romina Ramos She was all mandalas and peacesigns, the kind of girl you would finddancing on the graves of society. She was recreational and free,the kind of song you dance to whenyou need release. She was euphoria. She was all pierced tongue and piercingeyes. Had the type of mind that goes onfor miles. She… Continue reading Trouble

Changing Seasons

Changing Seasonsby Romina Ramos In a city where every day is a miserableDecember evening, she is July. She does to mewhat summer does to strawberry fields. She is hot coffee on a crisp autumn morning,with each calculated sip first Ulysses then Morphosand Monarchs form a kaleidoscope inside me. She is spring because her laugh is… Continue reading Changing Seasons

My Father Was An Athlete

Writer’s Note: this poem was originally published in the August 2021 ‘Family’ issue of PopShot magazine. My Father Was An Athlete He ran out of the maternity ward so fast,that he got to the finish line beforeI even opened my eyes for the first time. And every man that came after himTreat us like it… Continue reading My Father Was An Athlete

Dear Ma

Dear Ma You once wrote of me that I am like a chair not a comfortable one but strong and supportive. Today I write to you to say that you are the table at which we dine at every night. Your thick oak limbs have held more difficult decisions than traditional cuisine and your back… Continue reading Dear Ma

Delayed

Delayed We’ll get the 16:22 Hazel Grove service,and we’ll get off at Piccadilly station. The train will be delayed by 17 minutesbut we won’t notice because our eyes will be lost in conversation. I will sipfrom my coffee and we’ll share a cigarette and by the time the train arriveswe’ll have seen each other naked.

Devil’s Advocate

You were temptationin a tight red dress, the shotof tequila that pushedme over the edge. You were prohibitionon my tongue, secrecycutting through the airlike stale perfume. Youwere cool silk on my skin. You were an island on a treasure map.I meant all that I said butI had to search for the gold.