Read this in Spanish
papi taught me about nostalgia
with his old cassette tapes
on the 350
above all, I remember Jaramillo
I imagine he also cried
and has tried not to forget
but I don’t blame him
sometimes you have to fight with the air
destroy walls that once protected
and take out the smell by burning things
I recognize you were there, Pá
—in your own way—
that at times
there isn’t enough body to be present
and that’s ok
I forgive myself for hating
I forgive you for not understanding till this date
that I try to bring you closer
I forgive us for the rupture
you and I are a loose end
trying to return to a place that will never exist again
(or so I think)
I will forever keep your last te amo
and the embrace that could only be brought by disaster