Issue #2: Homecoming, Amaury Avalos

Homecoming

25marsspan

That hallway felt like an eternity
I could feel their eyes following me
Look at my clothes
Look at your clothes
I am a problem in brown man’s skin
The bus is like an urban legend
Full of the ghosts of children
On its way to places I know nothing about
Names I never learned growing up
That I now can’t live without

This time I am alone
There is a sensation of terror to this
Like if I fuck it up
Then the earth will finally open up
And I’ll lose all purchase
And disappear from sight
You’ll never remember I was here
They’ll speak of me in anecdotes
Like they never really knew me
Just sometimes glimpsed me from a side view
That only gave them a profile
But never let them face me head on
So when I opened my mouth
The words would pass them by
Like nothing

Nothing

Black is not a synonym for nothing
Black is the absorption of everything
Black is the invisible become visible
Black is too much for you to process
Black is many pigments smeared into one
Black has no other choice
Black is contrary to white
Black cannot reject
Black is the inevitable

Inevitable is what this was
Like the moment I stepped into your life
I was already stepping out of it
One foot in the door
One foot out the window

This train looks like a death sentence
May as well hand me a pistol and a mirror
Like I can’t stand how much you look like me
Like is this what last resorts look like?
Like service industry uniforms?
And low wage hygiene?

I’m afraid I’ve finally made it.

I’m afraid I’m finally home.

____________________

Amaury Avalos is a child of a hostage generation, mute children of the corn. Raised in NYC, he finds himself waxing nostalgic for the open forests of Montana, the endless dunes of the Sahara. A lover of the stars, he once almost applied to move to Mars, but ultimately decided that Earth still has more than enough to offer. For now he bides his time wandering the fire escapes and side streets of New York City, searching for a moment of silence.

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One response to “Issue #2: Homecoming, Amaury Avalos

  1. Youre not alone , the beauty of your experinece is that your folowing in our treacks, el diablo no sabe por diablo sabe por viejo!

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