Liang Yu

I pictured how she must have sat there. Alone in the empty lobby next to a large window, staring at the rain puddles alongside the streets as they filled deeper. It was eleven o’clock; she was expected home an hour earlier. “Xiaojie. Neng gei ni jiao liang chuzu qiche ma?” asked the concierge. “Miss, can I call you a taxi?

You know it is a great thing to get your mail.I have been looking forward to hear from you for 1 month.Meanwhile,i have a little anxious.Because my writen English is poor,but just try to understand me as much as you can.Thanks.

El Coyote de Freeport

EL Coyote de Freeport by Daniel Reyes

Part of Part 1

Note: This is a quickly written, unedited, rough draft of the first part of a miniseries of El Coyote de Freeport….more to come later.

Freeport had become what most thought it never would: an authoritarian, stockade-like community where folks as young as 10 were forced to work long days and nights in the surrounding chemical refineries. Like with Mao’s China and Stalin’s Russia, people were becoming machines whose sole purpose was to produce labor. Anyone with an agenda other than those who dictated were to be reported immediately. Imprisonment or death was the punishment, depending on the severity of the crime, which was dependent on the mood of the judge at the time.

he opened his eyes

an american spirits cigarette rested between his lips, the smoke swimming quickly through the air before disappearing. he stared across the street, but at nothing particular. a large oak trees acted as a shield from the sun. it was a hot day, one of the first of summer, and it promised to be hotter than before. the neighborhood streets were quiet. if anyone walked or drove by, he would not have noticed. his thoughts were too deep. he held his fifth lone star beer in his right hand, sipping in between cigarette puffs.

“where did i go wrong?” he thought to himself. he saw his daughter last week, the first time since four years ago. he had promised to return, but didn’t. all she knew was her dad was gone. where to? she didn’t know this, but she still loved him. she was still eager to hold him and listen to his stories about growing up in a small town on a farm. the pictures of horses and cows stuck with her. she wanted to experience this herself. her mother’s negative comments and insults about her father never changed how she felt about him. nearly everyday her mom would talk about him, saying how terrible he was. she was too young to understand these things. all she knew was that he was her father, and she loved him.

he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and sipped on his lone star. he felt angry and wanted to chunk the bottle at the street, but didn’t. no one was to blame but himself. somewhere, sometime, he gave up on everything. “what the fuck were you thinking?” he said to himself. he turned to look up and shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds. during this time he had escaped his predicament. for those few seconds he was free. the colors around him were clearer. the skies seemed bluer, the trees greener. he saw the huge smile of his daughter like he never had before. she was so beautiful, her long dark hair flying up and down as he pushed her on the swing. she yelled “higher daddy, higher,” and he did just that.

he opened his eyes. after a moment he took a puff from his cigarette and squeezed the beer bottle tightly. his fingers turned red and he yelled loudly, his veins on his neck growing large and green. the scream echoed throughout the street. the birds on the oak tree flewed away scared. he leaned forward and his bloodshot eyes produced uncontrollable tears as he looked at the ground. he cried like he never had before, this grown man. his cry couldn’t bring his back daughter, he knew this. seeing his daughter in a pine box was no way to say goodbye to her. every regret he held, every bad decision he made, visited him that day. with each beer sip and cigarette puff, he fell deeper and deeper into his own hell. he had prayed that opening his eyes would change the past. but it wouldn’t.

05/20/09

in mexico, somewhere

an unedited, unplanned, neglected, first draft of in mexico, somewhere

by me

in mexico, somewhere
from what i read, of course
exists un pueblo that’s home
to as many chinese as there are mexicans
i read no further
but only imagine and dream
of this exotic paradise
the best of two mundos meet
living, singing, dancing, eating
eggrolls dipped in mole salsa
enchiladas embraced by sweet n sour
i thought about the beautiful dark skin babies
with adorable, tiny eyes
who smile without rest
zhongwen (chinese) with espanol
seeds of a romantic flowering
cultural integration at its best
and the embracing and kissing
of dark and pale skins and lips
was the climax of my imagination

12-10-00