Notes from the Past

I looked over old writing notebooks and surprised myself.  "Who wrote this stuff?" I asked no one in  particular.  The torn and creased journals were decades old and so they offered clues about who I once was or who I might have been or who I missed completely.   Without any comment, here are a few pages from those notebooks.  Non-poems from a non-poet.  Copyright 2020 Manuel Ramos.

_______________________________

White ball of webbing
in the corner
    of the wall,
trapping meager lives
before they know better.

It was too damn hot
but it had been weeks
since she cleaned the house.

She broke away the web
   with her hand
wiped it with an oily rag
made that corner shine 
until she saw his eyebrows arch
just before he laughed
at the silliest thing she could say.

The rag was no help
couldn't clean the flashes
hidden in each room
the smells
the way his face wrinkled
when he saw her.

The evening breeze through the open window
pushed the rag off the table
where she sat
trying to remember what she was doing.

_____________________________________


I tossed her in Lake Michigan,
left her stranded at the Blues,
drunk and disorderly.
Found my sanity
under the grungy seat
of the train slashing through the South Side.
Regained a bit of confidence
on Clark Avenue,
among the bars, comic books and groceries.
The Holy Spirit and New Age mush and
her mother and a piece of ice
moved into my space in her heart.

And I moved on.

__________________________________________

4 men fidgeted
3 black, 1 brown
number 5 on trial
a minor offense
crucial to survival
of systems, methods
obscure levels separated by lines of power.

Able to say only so much
not enough to stop it.
Aliens to the process
impossible to learn
birth right essential
what could 4 men
3 black, 1 brown
offer without 
a system
method or obscure level
of their own?

They lost number 5.

________________________________________

Aztec poetry -- contrast Quetz. and Huiz.
"Lady of the Skirt of Snakes."

________________________________________

MURDER AT THE TEATRO

Jose is killed - shot by a late night visitor to the teatro--
no one else around --
all others appear to have good alibis but Det. Vigil
finds out that none have very good alibis --
all those who could have done the killing had motives --
Vigil:  distinguished, cynical, tall,
recognizes the ambiguity (contradiction) 
of being a Chicano cop.
Ricky:  Mad Mex -  political motive
Maria:  jealousy over leaving the teatro
Roberto:  city guy?
person on the phone?
Isabel:  unrequited love?

Later.

______________________________________

Manuel Ramos writes crime fiction. His latest is The Golden Havana Night (Arte Público Press.)