The Curious Lizard

I see...

Mom and I sat in our yard in Havana, one afternoon,

You had gone to Canada all ready and I was a curious little loon.

I was, perhaps, five or six when I played that day with a lizard.

I asked my mother, without much regard:

"Why do their tails grow back?"

She stared at me, ignoring my ability to forget that he was gone,

That we were left in this city for a long time alone:

"Well, they have to escape from a child's grasp."

While she said this, I looked up into the sky and watched a plain as it soared past.

"Is he on that one Mommy?"

She stared up at the sky and I could see that she was lonely.

The smell of the afternoon sunshine,

Intermingled with the smells of the city's, streets so divine;

The smell of my mother, who's heart was so full,

Of loneliness that nothing could ever dull.

It was a warm afternoon of perhaps 1994,

And for two years we didn't see you anymore.

This is what I remember from when I was young,

The nostalgic event that always leaves my tongue,

When I think of your first absence in my life,

I remember how mom had to fight,

But now this nostalgia is all I have left,

Of a man who's life was stolen, like a theft.

The End

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