PLEASE READ ME

Please read me,

I’m an attention thirsty poem,

with half sentences like this one,

and weird line breaks like so.

Please read me, dear reader,

I need you to digest me.

Think about what I’m mean,

Is there any hidden meaning?

I beg of you attentive reader,

share this poem in writing class,

with over-analytical teachers,

and confused adolescents.

Oh, I would so appreciate it,

ff you could read me again,

and pause at every coma,

and emphasize all italics.

Because my words are here,

for you to read them.

I would not have existed

without my dear, dear reader.

Please read me, and give me a purpose,

give me the strength to go another sentence,

and another,

and another.

Without you, my dear reader,

perhaps I would have been a painting,

or music, or a sculpture.

But not words, my dear reader, not words.

Look, my dear reader,

Here’s a short sentence.

I’ve made it easy on you,

Now, read me again.

Homeless Man Building a Spaceship

“Hey man, have a dollar to spare?”

The smell of Manhattan stays with you long after you’ve left that city. I like to walk instead of taking the subway though, there’s something about how busy this city is that I like to feel in my spine, on my skin, on the back of my neck. The sun isn’t tall enough yet at this time in the morning to peek over the buildings. But even though it’s early, there are already so many people on the street that it’s impossible to recognize any one individual face.

It feels like a race about to begin, all of us, the thousands of us, waiting for the walking man of white light to give us permission to cross the street.

And this man is asking me for money.

“Common man. Anything you have on you. I’m building a spaceship and I need a few extra dollars. Any change you got on you man.”

I turned to lay my eyes on a man who seemed to have lived for an eternity and worn the same outfit throughout. His skin looked stiff and dry, like his hair. His eyebrows had grown in length enough to braid them. But he has a clean shave. Surprisingly perfect. And he’s asking me for money to build a spaceship. My face is smiling and I don’t even know it.

“You building a spaceship?”

“That’s right. I’m getting out of this shit.”

“Where are you going?”

“Keiser.”

“I have no idea where that is.”

“Damn right you don’t. Neither does the Government. That’s why I’m going there.”

“You going alone?”

“Why you asking? You want to come with?”

“No, no. Just curious. This Keiser place sounds like it’s far away. Just curious if you’re taking anyone to keep you company.”

“You seem quite nosey about my spaceship. You don’t work for the Government, do you?”

My face couldn’t hold back a smile. “No, not at all. I work in advertising.”

The light turned green, and with it, the halting palm of red light turned to the walking man of white light. The glacier of people behind me started to move in unison, almost taking me with them. I moved out of the way. I want to give this poor man some change.

“How much do you need to get it finished?”

“Not much. Why, you loaded?”

I laughed. “I have a few dollars I could help you out with.”

“Wait. You can’t give me money just like that. You haven’t even seen the plans yet.”

“It’s alright Sir. I’m kind like that.”

“Not kind enough to take a look at the blueprints.”

“Why do I have to see the blueprints to give you money?”

“So you know what you’re investing in.”

“But it’s only a few dollars. It’s not an investment Sir, it’s a gift.”

“Did you say, ‘dollars,’ plural? Wow, that’ll make you my biggest stockholder.”

“Alright, show me the blueprints.”

“But give me the dollars first. I don’t want you stealing my design.”

“I’m not in need of a spaceship, Sir.”

“Wait, so you’re not investing anymore?”

“Ah! Ok, hold on.” I said with more exhale than normal, my jaw clinched.

I started digging around in my pant’s pockets.

The solid wall of humans was passing me by, blurry, as if it were one large organism. The sounds of car motors and car horns and car drivers were all trying to get into my ears at once, pushing and shoving. The city was leaving me behind. I checked my watch.

“So what are you running from, man?” asked the old man, lighting a cigarette that he held between two wrinkled, crooked fingers. The fingers had perfect manicured nails.

“What do you mean? I’m on my way to work.” I said, my hand still in my pocket looking for disposable wealth.

“Everybody’s running from something, man. What are you running from?”

“I don’t run from things.”

“Sure,” a cloud of smoke escaped his mouth.

“You’re the one building a spaceship, old man. What are you running from?”

“You already know enough, kid.”

“Hey, if I’m going to invest in this, I need to know what it’s for.”

“To get to Keiser, kid. To get to Keiser.”

“Yea, but why? Why do you want to go to Quasar?”

“Keiser.”

“Right, Keiser.”

“When you know what you’re running from, kid, you’ll understand,” another puff of smoke, thick as cream, floated out of the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not running from anything.”

“You haven’t live in New York for too long, have you?”

“Yea, I just moved here. How can you tell?”

“You don’t have one wrinkle on your face.”

“Right, but I’m also 24.”

“Most locals look 42 by the age of 24.”

My fingers found a ball of crumbled bills and fished them out. It was a five-dollar bill and two ones all crumbled up together, one little family. I straightened them out and offered them to the old man. He took another puff of his cigarette, looked at the money and exhaled grey. Some of the smoke getting lost somewhere in the forest of his eyebrows.

“What’s this?” asked the old man, his eyes squinting, looking at me, insulted.

“It’s my investment for the spaceship.”

“Seven dollars? You have any idea how much a spacesuit costs?”

“Look old man. I’m just trying to help.”

“Why don’t you answer the question?”

“What question?” I looked at my watch again.

“What are you running from?”

“Look man. I need to be at work in nine minutes. I don’t want to be late. Just take the money, alright!”

Smoke floated in front of the old man’s face, “Sure kid, run away from this, too.”

“What!? I’m not running away, I need to be at work. Just take goddamn money, and go build your spaceship.”

“But you haven’t seen the plans yet.”

“Look, I’m putting the money right here, on your bag. I need to go.”

I dropped the money on top of his worn out backpack at his feet. I stood up and turned to walk away. And something struck me.

I fell to the ground having lost my balance. There was a man in suit on the ground with me. His suitcase open, papers flying out.

“I’m so sorry!” said the man, having run into me while he was sprinting, late for work.

He started to gather all the papers while the rest of the world walked around us, without looking twice at the scene. No one cared. I stood up and watched the suited man hopelessly trying to gather his life back. With many of the papers now under the footsteps of the human train traveling by and around us, he closed the suitcase and kept on running.

I turned and the old man was gone, although I could still make out a small cloud of cigarette smoke hanging around. Where the man was standing, there were seven dollars, and rolled up blueprints. I stoop on top of them, looking in disbelief. I scanned around me but all I could make out was the mess that is New York City. The stench of Manhattan clogged up my lungs. New York City the soundtrack was now playing at full volume. I felt tense.

I kneeled down and reached for the blueprints.

I was late for work. And I didn’t care.

Two Boys With Ski Masks

"Dude, it's my urine!" said Yec, showing off a water bottle full of a liquid that looked like it could glow in the dark.

"Nice!" I said.

"I'm nervous man. What if we get caught?"

"Ah. God. What's the worst it could happen?" I gave Yec a look to make him feel less of a man.

"Ok, let's get this over with. I have the eggs, a flask filled with old milk. I got ten of these fountain pens, freshly loaded."

"Juicy," I said. "I'll check if my parents are asleep."

It was almost two in the a.m.. Moral surveillance (aka, my parents) was sound asleep. You'd think effective surveillance works night and day. No these two. All you have to do to beat my parent's moral dictatorship is wait till their batteries run out. After 11 p.m., you can do pretty much anything in my house. Just don't do anything that involves loud screaming. Those two will be up the way you'd expect waking up a hibernating grizzly bear would be.

"The old man is snoring. We're good."

"Ok. I'm ready. I think," said Yec. You could tell he was nervous. That awkward way of breathing, those dumb looking eyes of insecurity. God, Yec could really get on my nerves sometimes.

"I can't believe we got these ski masks man. This is so awesome!"

"Um. Yea. Pretty cool. Do we really need them man? We're already dressed in all black. Don't you think someone might mistake us for a pair of crooks?"

"Shut your dumb face!" I exclaimed. I don’t' care how tough he looks on the outside, Yec is just a bag full of gummy bears, I swear to God.

"Look Yec, the way you live your life, your missing it dude. Life. You spend every goddamn moment doubting, doubting if everything is going to be ok, what people are going to think, if you're going to get hurt or not. Jesus man. Jesus and Mary. Look, you're a good friend of mine, you really are. And as your friend, I feel like it's my duty to push you. Jesus and Mary and that other guy, Moses! Seriously man, I have no idea where you would be without me."

"Probably asleep, comfortable in my bed, having nice dreams about naked girls."

"Holly freaking hell! You're really missing the point Yec, you really are. Listen to yourself. This is going to be the most exciting thing you've ever done and you're wishing you'd be back home hugging you teddy bear. Oh my freaking God man. Plus, it's not like we're going to do the entire neighborhood, just a few houses man."

"So what's the plan?" Yec always gives in to peer pressure.

I started packing the eggs in a dumb looking fanny pack I stole from my dad's closet. Black to match my outfit. Black to match my ski mask. In a separate black bag I put in a bottle of old milk, the vinegar flask a Tupperware with a couple pieces of raw meat and Yec's urine.

My heart was racing. It felt good. I like when my heart beats that hard. I like to think it's showing off its muscle. I like it. My lungs were doing a similar number. It felt like my entire body was now tensing and flexing and squirming, trying to get my attention. Yes, stomach, I know you're excited, now calm down.

One last peek to see if the old man was sill snoring.

"Gear up. We're moving out. Tonight Yec, you'll be born again."

We both put on our Ski masks. For a second we didn't recognize each other. Just a pair of sinister-looking men. I could still tell it was Yec though. That dumb look in his eyes is one in a million.

We walked slowly passed my parent's bedroom in two in the morning darkness.  Quiet. Completely quiet less Yec's anxious breathing. We got to the sliding door that leads to my garden and we slipped out.

Good thing the night was cool because I was sweating like a beer straight out of the cooler in these black pants and this black turtle neck. Except for my eyes and mouth, inside this ski mask, it was summer at full blast. The full moon was a nice touch, lighting in clear white light the ladder on the side of my house that I was using to get to the ceiling. And Oh my God can Yec climb any slower!

My neighborhood is a series of houses all connected celling to ceiling. I'm glad things are this way, otherwise jumping house to house in stealth mode would be impossible. At least for me. Yec is a ninja in secret, I'm telling you. That kid could backflip over a dozen cars if he wanted to. If only he had the rocks I have.

We jumped over a ledge at the edge of my home's celling, and onto the neighbor's. This was it. Our first house. My heart doing what it does best but at twice the speed.

I looked over my shoulder, Yec, close behind me. We were staying low, trying to make our steps as light as possible. We used hand signals to say "coast is clear" or "onward" and other dumb things like that. I swear to God we really looked like a pair of crooks.

And there it was. Defenseless. Our first target. From up here where I was standing, you could see all of it, clear as glowing ghosts. The laundry in moon light. All the laundry that was left hanging by ropes, left outside to dry. I unzipped my fanny and pulled out a few fountain pens. I gave a couple to Yec. He saw my mouth and eyes smile, because it was all he could see of my face with this ski mask on. I popped my pens open and took a breath. As if I were holding an invisible whip, I started lashing the fountain pens towards the clothes. Even in this darkness you could see the ink on the white garments starting to show. Yec was doing the same, maybe with better form. Synchronized transgression. You could hear very subtle giggles and agitated breathing coming from these two dumb kids. By the time we were done with the fountain pens, the clothes almost matched the night.

Me put the evidence back in my fanny. Staying low, maybe doing a few dumb maneuvers to look more stealthy. We got to the next house. The chimney was the target. Yec pulled out the bottle of urine. He was proud of that bottle. He really was. It was like his baby, I mean, he did gestate it, didn't he? He opened it up and poured all 16 ounces down the chimney, just like we planned. We were both giggling as quiet as we can. Cap back on, evidence back in the bag. Next house.

We hit three more houses. We threw eggs on expensive cars. Pieces of raw meat at windows. Old milk on welcome mats. We were like a hurricane, leaving a trail of destruction everywhere. All the while staying low, rolling unnecessarily, getting flat against walls, looking around corners up on all those ceilings. Only the moon baring witness. Or so we thought.

Once our ammunition ran out we stealth ran, jumped and rolled back to my house. Running past the house that had the welcome mat sulking in old milk. Running past the expensive cars, already starting to smell like boiled eggs. Running past the chimney that drank Yec's urine. We ran down memory lane, down the trail of destruction. Then climbed down the ladder, slipped back into my house, tip-toed passed my parents bedroom, past my dad's snoring, and back to safety, in my room the door closed behind me.

I took my ski mask off, the skin on my face felt like a steamed mirror. My hair was soaked in sweat. It's what happens when you vandalize people's property. I looked at Yec. He was looking at me. This was the first time we'd seen each other's faces in ages. We were both still breathing heavily. I started to laugh. Oh man did I laugh. Hell, I laughed so much I thought I would wake up the whole neighborhood. Yec wasn't laughing. After all that we had just been through, the stiff couldn't give out a decent smile. I felt alive, energized. Yec, you could tell by that waxy-looking face of his that he was having doubts.

It was almost six in the a.m., you could tell the sun was getting ready to make an appearance because the night sky was looking a bit pale. Not the way Yec's face looked pale, more like the way a purple shirt would look if you bleached it too much. I couldn't stop talking about what we had done. Yec just wanted to get out of his criminal uniform and go to sleep. Goddammit Yec, that kid really could get on my nerves, I'm not even joking.

The party poop got in bed, this inflatable bed I would have for my friends when they stayed over. He turned off the light, I was still in my crime suit, midway through a sentence. How rude. Oh well, I threw myself on my bed. I still spoke for a few more minutes while the curtains in my room got brighter and brighter from the morning. When I was satisfied with my talking,  I concluded by getting Yec's attention.

"Hey, Yec. Yec!"

"...what."

"We really pranked those houses like pros man. We make a good team."

"...sure."

A loud knock on my door woke me. The door opened violently. It was my dad.

"Pedro. Could you come with me for a minute?"

"Um, yea dad. What's up?" Shit. I was still in my crime wear. I must have dozed off before I could get rid of the most important piece of evidence.

I drag myself out of bed, while my dad watched. You could tell he knew these were not my pajamas. I walked passed my dad, "I just need to pee quickly."

I went into the bathroom and took off my black turtle neck and my black pants and my black tennis shoes. How embarrassing, I was wearing white socks all this time. I took those off, too. I found my brother's dirty pajama pants in the pile of dirty clothes. I threw my prank uniform into the pile and put on the pajamas. I came out.

"A neighbor just called. He told me that yesterday he heard some noises on his celling. Do you know anything about that?"

I could tell he was not buying my quick pajama shuffle.

"No dad. How would I know about that?"

"He told me was alarmed when he heard footsteps on the ceiling. So he got his gun."

"What!?"

"He told me he snuck out to the garden and saw who figures on his ceiling. He told me he aimed his gut at one of the two."

"…"

"He told me he was about to shoot when he heard one of the figures talk to the other. And he realized it was just a pair of kids."

My heart was doing that thing again.

"Pedro. The neighbors have been calling all morning. One of them told us her new Mercedes reeked like rotten eggs."

[giggle]

"Pedro, this is not funny. Were you and your friend responsible for this?"

I was cornered. The old man was good. Maybe too good. He had all the dirt on me. He told me he saw the ladder. He told me the garden door was left open. He showed me the shoe marks on the rug left by Yec's and my shoes when we ran back in. And of course, he pointed out to my crime uniform. I couldn't get out of this.

"...we were."

I would never buy you roses

You don't deserve them.
Not roses,
not chocolates,
not even cotton-stuffed bears.

We won't see a movie tonight,
not even the one with that actor.
I wont burn a CD,
with music that speaks to us.

Don't expect a fancy restaurant.
Don't hope for a glittering rock.
If there's one thing I'm not doing,
is buying your love.

Because you deserve better.

A rose made from origami.

A dinner by my fire place.

Glittering rocks in a necklace,

hand-made by me.

I would never allow an artist,

to tell you what I can say better.

Why have a movie set the mood,

if I can set it, and hotter at that.

So you see,

I would never buy you roses,

you deserve more effort than that.

I would make them for you.

Motivation

It calls my name,
it wakes me.
The calling is loud,
so very persuasive.

It invades my mind,
my thoughts, my feelings.
It's all I think about,
it's all I yearn.

I feel it burn,
I feel it beat.
My blood is thick,
it's boiling.

My muscles tense,
my jaw tightens.
I'm standing, sitting.
I'm running.

It's the only thing I see,
everything else is a whisper.
It's the only thing I feel,
everything else, the wind.

Don't get in its way,
you cannot stop it.
Dont' reason with it,
It's made its choice.

It doesn't ask,
it takes.
It doesn't wait,
it does.

And once at the peak,
It'll climb higher.
And higher.
And higher.

...so step aside.

Pedro Alejandro Wunderlich

Surprise!

Oh, look at this! I wrote this in class. Right under everyone's noses.