To the kid whose drink I did not pay for at the convenience store today By Alex Z. Salinas

 You caught me hella off-guard. I’m sorry. 

Next time, I’ll ask: How’re your grades?

To which I’ll add: Mine were golden &

Still, cash is so hard to come by. I

Gotchu—but pay it forward to the

Next kid. Okay? Don’t make promises.

Just do it. If you are cold, then so too is

The full moon. It is you who belongs to 

The earth. You who governs rules to a

Moral center. Sturdy as a book. Give it 

Your all and expect nothing but Death’s

Swift kiss. Even Christ writhed taking it

On the chin. This is what we’re up against.

I’ve written it once and I’ll say it again:

Grab the nearest partner & dance. Dance. 

Yes—this is what I’ll tell you next time. 

This is the action I prepare in advance. Like

An old soldier who salutes daily the sunset 

Because he has lost everything but his ghost. 

Alex Z. Salinas is the author of two poetry collections: WARBLES and DREAMT, or The Lingering Phantoms of Equinox. He is also the author of a book of stories: City Lights From the Upside Down. He holds an M.A. in English Literature and Language from St. Mary’s University. He lives in San Antonio, Texas.