It’s so peaceful now, so mellow, tranquil and zen. How things can go when you are not waiting for life to go out with a bang. There was a dream, I ran behind you, your stubborn head boarded the tram, my mind swirled , back and forth, back and forth, like a deranged boomerang.

I still write your name until the ink runs dry in my pen, coloring your hair with pixels on my screen. Life never felt quite as zen, to this very day I swear, it must've been a dream.

There goes the dream again, thought I turned the page, running behind your stubborn head boarding the tram, the one that comes by at ten, the one that is forest green, "do or die" mocking on its side, red letters hinting of rage.

My legs were cast iron, every step slowed me down, every step sunk into the cement, candle sticks stuck in a cake, the cracks split forward, opening the earth like a icy fissure spreading across a lake.

Your mischievous smile, dared me to move faster; eyes blank though, because love was dead, run over by the ugly tram, the one with letters on its side painted red.

Blood spilling all over the street, onto the sidewalk, where a passerby dared to ask, 'how dare you disturb my zen'.

Government officials contained the mess and no-one was wiser to what passed through that head, and just like that, the ink ran dry in my pen.

– A. Garcia