Looks empty. Not a soul. Wait, there is an old woman with a child

leaving. Both were crying. I see they left some pretty flowers at the side

of a stone. Went to find out the name of the body in its eternal place.

From the dates inscribed on the headstone, I gathered it had been her

husband. And probably the kid’s Grandpa. I walked back to my Mama’s

stone. It was 7:00 PM. The sun was on its way to bed. The moon had

starting to show. Like a silver coin you could take to your pocket.

The air was fresh and the aroma from flowers and trees was gaining

more presence, inundating the whole cemetery in an ocean of

intense scents. I love it. The tree by my Mama’s stone was extending

its arms, I mean; branches in my direction. As greeting me.

It has been so many many times I’ve come to this cemetery…

my mind plays interesting things in my head. I call it magic.

Magic would be the exact word for the many things I feel I spend at the

cemetery. I set up myself bringing over the petroleum lamp.

Having a drink from my bottle of Tequila. And a cigarette. Once I do

that, I lay on my back and watch the moon bloom in full mood.

I then turn to my book and read for a while. The night is young.

One more drink from my Tequila. Stare at the moon. After reading

another hour or more, I pull over my overcoat. I’m comfortable.

I’m wearing a heavy sweater and I use my backpack as my

pillow. I can feel my Mama’s bones trying to dance an old song she

loved. I whisper: Mama, you know I’m here. Yes, I love you too.

Let’s get some sleep. I drink one more long shot of Tequila and go to

sleep. Lobo is keeping me company.

Goodnight.

EO