on that same hour of the night <br />while you <br />were drinking your beer <br />alone <br />and taking big bites <br />of your beef steaks <br />and releasing <br />your stress <br />on some sticks of <br />imported cigarettes <br /> <br />on the other side of the table <br />too <br />sit two other friends <br />talking nonchalantly <br />like the sound systems of <br />the barrio <br /> <br />the wave their hands <br />shouting their names <br />telling me <br /> <br />that these times <br />they too know how to still enjoy <br />life and forget <br /> <br />and that i am always too far away from them <br />in my own kind <br />of indifference <br />in my own way <br />to disregarding <br />other people's selfishness <br /> <br />and they ask me if i have not forgotten them <br />their names the place of their origins <br />their true faces <br />and how the scars and violence have changed them <br />how they now learn <br />to look the other way around and bury themselves <br />in the small pleasures of smoke and alcohol <br />defining for once <br />what is despair<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-that-same-hour-of-the-night/
