These Memories
Maria Valeria

The memories in my head that I imagine every night are the color green,
the color of grass, fresh and healthy
I imagine they are black, black as a moonless night, black as a blackout
in a city that never sleeps
The memories in my head are pink and blue, purple and red
The carnations in my room with their original fragrance, they are my drug
The memories in my head smell like lemonade on a hot summer day and feel
like cold water flowing down my throat on a 100-degree day
They feel like razor blades cutting through my skin
They feel like lost hopes and failed dreams
These memories smell like my favorite peaches, freshly picked from the
orchid, juicy and warm
These memories sound like rock and roll
They sound like fallen voices and discouraged children
These memories in my head
These memories in my head
These memories sound like the cries of my mother and her shaking shoulders
as she sobs for my brother's life
These memories smell
These memories smell like the liquor on his breath
The smell of his aged, sweaty body busting in the door at four in the
morning 
These memories are the color blue
The blue skies I saw that day when I lay on that country grass in the
orchids that smelled like
It smelled like the grass in D.R. after a long tired day of showers
When the sounds of the birds sing out again
When the sun comes back out to play with naked babies running around 
the patios
And creating this melody and beat of the land I love
Of the land I miss, of the land I have seen just once before
But I remember it
I remember it so vividly
These memories taste
These memories taste like his lips, its lemon sourness, its tangy
tangerine
The lifesavers on the lips I used to taste
These memories in my head are rushing and flowing
They are trickling like water in my mind and through my veins
These memories are peaches, lemons, gumdrops and gummy bears
They are the normal events of my childhood
The ones I remember, the ones that make me laugh
They are the pit bull chasing my sister and my brother down the block that
summer day
Because my brother, Rafi, decided he was tougher than this dog and should
therefore prove it hitting the dog with a stick
The three of us ran to the building and shut the door
Rafi barks at the Pit from the door window because he is just so tough
These memories flood my mind and I do not have enough paper to write them
on
So I'll quit now while I can still control my pen
These memories, these memories, these memories are who I am