03
Heroic Unconditional

He was proud of his little town,
and knew it like his duvet cover:
every square inch felt out,
every stitch of alley and square.
His heart was cut from his little town
where they passed down
from man to man
the burden of bearing our dreams.

Fuenlabrastas
had made mattresses
for four and four more generations,
and the boy knew the weight carried
on those red and white stripes,
could see it in the warm-lit windows
where boys still shined their papi's shoes
and listened to their stories.