Dear Brown Boy,
I saw you today. Again.
Alone, shivering, walking down somewhere strange and somewhere known and somewhere cold and somewhere hard and somewhere I didn’t want to see.
I wanted to hold you. But I know I couldn’t .
I wanted to say something, to scream, to shout, to tell you-
te escucho, te oiga, te veo.
But I know I couldn’t. Brown boy, perdoname.
I know the laws say we can’t speak to each other, and we never will, but the winds tell me you’re strong, weak sometimes, broken most of the time, but strong still. Fuerza, fuerza, fuerza.
Existing in-between of there and here and up and down and right and wrong and wrong and right and gone and gone-er and invisible and seen and everything and nothing.
Even when we know, Brown Boy, and I know you know, even then….
Actually, best not discuss here, lest they hear us and ask questions and find the ice walls we hide behind.
Dear Brown Boy, alone on the street, brown boy in the mirror and in the river deep,
Make me a promise. No te me mueras.
I’ll try, too.