The other night
as I was watching Rocky 3
for the millionth time
I believe, I cried
when Mickey died in
Rocky’s arms
his anguish as real as mine
I felt it within me
welling up, the tears pouring down like
the Dollar Store wine
I drink nightly
the weeks of holding it all in
holding on to
myself, hanging on
to my wife as her own father
died a thousand miles away, in
Mexico
I cried for her
driving her to a job which
she both hates and needs
on Monday mornings
Times like these I don’t know
if I can make it
without my
Dollar Store wine
and Rocky dvd’s.
Hugo Paz is a middle-aged waiter by day and an aspiring poet by night, dusk and any other time he can find inspiration. He lives in Alton, TX, a tiny town along the border of Mexico and the Rio Grande Valley. He is presently working on his first book of poems. Among his biggest influences are: Giovanni, Kinnell, Neruda, Bukowski, and Raymond Carver. He writes about the things he knows best: marriage, fatherhood, his mental health, and alcoholism, just to name a few.
