I remember Yahtzee by Lauren Kahle

I remember nights of playing Yahtzee

With my mom, dad, and brother, and sometimes

The neighbor girl would join and play with us

But she cheated at every game we played

But somehow my mom always won; so smart

Even though it is just a game of chance

I remember Red Hot Blues, the flavor

So perfect and spicy, but good for you

We ate them all up, sometimes with salsa

I remember Mom playing piano

And singing her heart out, the dog sang too

It was  a beautiful harmony, with

My mom’s strong voice and my dog’s funny squeals

And the familiar tune that she played

I remember sneaking out, smoking bowls

In the back while my parents were asleep

And burned my teenage brain cells, lots of them

Staying up late watching futurama

With my big brother, and sometimes that same

Neighbor girl that used to cheat at board games

The side of the house was the “party spot”

As my dad used to fondly call it

My mom would come in and ask if we’ve smoked

And we couldn’t help but to start laughing

Surely giving ourselves away, futile

I remember South Park, not because of

Cartman, or Kyle, Stan, or Kenny, Butters,

But because of laughing with my brother

Poem of the Day: I Remember Lotería

BY JACOB SAENZ

I remember nights of playing

Lotería w/Mom & Big Manny

as a way to learn the Spanish they spoke

to each other but not to their kids

who caught on to certain words

like cállate, cerveza, chicharrón;

little nuggets I ate up

like the pinto beans we used

instead of the blue chips

Mom kept in her Bingo bag

she carried every Friday night

when her & Tia Shirley

went to the Moose Lodge,

her hair & coat reeking

w/the smoke of all who lost.

    

I remember El Borracho,

the man always holding a bottle

& about to fall over yet never does

like Big Manny stumbling home

late at night after a payday,

breath & belly full of beer,

who one time took a piss

in our bedroom.

I remember La Garza,

not for the heron it is

but cousin Tony & his kids,

nights of sleepovers & pizza,

PlayStation on a 40-inch TV,

the night he & Lil Jesse sneaked

bumps of coke in the bathroom

& I rubbed numb my teenage teeth.

I remember El Musico,

not the chubby man clutching his guitarra

but my brother Dave loading crates

of records & a dual turntable case

like a coffin into the back of a van,

the same set I hit my back on at ten

when I fell out of the top bunk bed.

But I prefer to remember La Sirena

back when her breasts were free

of the seashells she now holds

to cover them in water so blue

cold, her scales so red,

her name clung to the tongue

like dulce de leche.