The Memories I remember-By Katie Hedgepeth

I remember the times we used to play

Croquet on the beach, the wind blowing in
My eyes, making them water. The ocean
Roaring as the waves come curling over
The horizon and crash into the shore.

 

I remember the time when my aunt would
Go out into the cold, light blue ocean
And boogey board with me. The cold, salty
Water entering in my mouth as the
Ocean current brings me under. The salt
Water making me flinch as I take it
In, the nasty taste of salt mixed with small
Sand particles, with a course grained texture.

 

I remember the times when grandma and

Grandpa would take me to the beach to roast
Marshmallows. I always brought my favorite blanket
To the beach. The bright fluorescent colors
Would shine with any sign of light. At the
Beach, I would gently set down the blanket
On the grainy sand and enjoyed the heat
Radiating from the fire. The smoke
Drifting into my eyes as I tried to
Squint to make it hurt less. Laying on the
Blanket and looking at the stars, happy
To be with the best grandparents ever.

 

I remember many memories from

The beach like it was just yesterday, some
Shining brighter than others, smiling and
Looking at the pictures that I found. These
Are the best memories. I remember.



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.