Rick Vasquez(c), 1998
I was raised in Eagle Pass, Texas graduated from the University of Oregon
with a Bachelor of Arts, concentrating on English Literature and Creative
Eagle Pass is a border town to Piedras Negras, Coahuila Mexico. Growing
up there was a great cultural experience but sometimes the lessons of
life we learned were deadly, other time they were just close to death.
One Dead Parent is a poem I wrote for my friend Herby. He was killed in
a car accident after a long celebration of his daughter's first communion.
I wasn't at the scene but rumors have it that him and his wife had an awful
argument and in a rage, he left in his truck. The rest of the story is
in the poem. Sad but true.
The other poem is related to a love situation. Teenagers are often high
strung and take action without thinking. Sometimes they can kick back and
laugh at what happened later in their lives, like I did in my verse, A
Simple Lesson In Life. But sometimes they can't because their life ends
at the cost of a dumb mistake, like jumping out of a car in a fit of rage.
Hope you enjoy these two verses. I have others. My e-mail address: firstname.lastname@example.org-
please send suggestions or contact me just to talk poetry or fiction.
One Dead Parent
By Ricardo Vasquez
¡Vamos a ver! What can I say?
I really don’t know how to talk to a dead homey!
I don’t know how to act!
¿Que paso?!! What were you
I guess since you had been celebrating
all day long, your daughter’s primera communion,
You thought you were the man! And
like the coyote running through the streets,
With the Road Runner laughing at
his dumb wits, you got behind the wheel and ran.
But you know what? You were wrong
ese. You weren’t the man.
And I hate to disrespect because
you are dead,
But your just another drunk driver
who on this night decided to rest on your deathbed,
Another who decided to leave a family
in struggle and all for one more shot from that stupid bottle.
What can I say?! Should I fall on
my knees and pray? Or should I cry for one whole day?
Either way it doesn’t matter, your
wife and your daughter have begun their struggle,
Without a father,
With tears for your grave and guilt
for your faith.
I can feel the pain that flows through
the veins of the woman next to me
As we stare at an open casket.
Dora is her name. Your mother,
A woman who struggled through the
Hijole, what can I say on this bummer
I mean, I know we all have to go
sometime… but man,
Not now!! Your only 25. You took
your own life,
You weren’t gunned down or knifed.
I am not saying that is the
way to go
But that is something we can’t always
Whereas you chose to lose because
Tequila on the wheel was bad news.
You should have opened your eyes,
Realized getting killed was no wise
prize, especially for your kid.
Don’t get me wrong, your wife Isela
is very strong
But a family is just not the same
ONE DEAD PARENT.
Bueno ese, I’m tired of regañandote,
So I must depart
But I must say I feel a lot better
now that we’ve talked.
Hey ese, since you didn’t kill anyone
else when you crashed,
Ask god if he will let you come
home for a day.
Los vatos and I , we want to talk
to you, we didn’t get a chance to say
A Simple Lesson in Life-
Refrain don't go insane
By Ricardo Vasquez
Besides, we ain’t afraid of ghost,
as part of our barrio Seco Mines, we
have seen much worse.
It was a 1976 Grand Marquiz, a gray four door car. That is what I remember.
I also remember wondering as I grasped the dirt between my numbed
fingers and attempted to peel myself of the road, how it had gotten
this “woman vs man” or “lets see who will hurt who the most" stage.
It was insane how she could drive me out of my soul,
make it take of in a wind of despair and leave me out of control.
I had never experienced these feelings before, and man,
it wasn’t just a painful fall but my brand new boots where also torn.
We came to this road to check out the green,
Mesquite trees, the Rio Grande made it peaceful scene.
Hijole , I couldn’t recall, for my body was in serious pain,
My shirt covered in bloodstains but I remember thinking
“I am going to die! We won’t make it to the hospital on time.”
I looked up to see how scared she was,
To see if she was running towards me, to hold me in her arms,
And say “Baby!! Perdoname, I was wrong! Just don’t die on me. Please!”
And my subconscious terca, still competing, wanting to win the game
“This will teach you a lesson! We will see who will hurt now,” thinking
I was going to die.
But guess what? She was nowhere in sight, the car was gone,
“Oh no! She left me to die!” was my first thought as my mind
hallucinated, put me at a funeral scene, candles burning, as my casket
I could see my mother’s tears, my truck parked on blocks, being stored
As memory of what used to be me.
But nope, it wasn’t like that.
The car eventually pulled up, came to a stop and there she was,
Pissed of as she could be, kicking my legs and not holding me,
“What is wrong with you? Are you stupid? Why in the hell would
out of the car? I am still not coming back to you, fool. You can be
I still laid on the floor in pain, blood stained, the mind insane,
And still in rage, “Man, she won’t budge!”
“I am still not coming back,” was ringing in my ears, shedding my tears,
leaving me in fear, “I will never love again!” I shouted in despair
I held her hand, squeezed it and played some Romeo drama.
But she laughed and played it sleek. She pretended not to care,
don’t give a damn,” she said as she got back in the car and left me
alone, once more.
It felt gacho, I couldn’t believe she had a sancho
And there was nothing I could do to snatch her mind,
Bring it back to time it was in love with mine.
I tried flowers, I tried poems and held her hand while on my knees
Asking for forgiveness for something I didn’t do. But it was no use.
I had to get a grip on reality and get ready to lose, for she was gone,
Her love was now for someone else.
“Why did she leave?” I asked.
But, I realized that at that teen age it could have been for simple
It could have been just for the someone else's looks or even their
And all this came to late
Which I thought of as I walked four miles to get home.
Soaked in Blood and filled with pain, all because I couldn’t refrain.
That night was rough, it didn’t matter that I was tough,
The rubble cut trough my jeans and broken glass was under my skin,
It could have easily been a death scene.
There was nothing I could do, only thank God I was alive,
And admit to a lesson in life:
Sometime you must refrain and not let every day life drive you insane.
One Dead Parent
By Ricardo Vasquez
Send your comment to Rick
Back to the Previous Page