Letter To Mr. Lopez Poem by Eli MorenoDrew

I’m sitting in your place, Mr. Lopė z.
Spanish 2 non-native filled with fluent Spanish speakers.
Do you remember that?
Do you remember me?
Because I remember you…

I remember the day walking into your room
Being greeted with a half-sincere smile.
I showed you my poems, remember?
You told me what you thought
and I was so happy.
Do you remember that, Mr. Lopė z?

I remember your small Mexican stature,
and your hair as asphalt, black and oiled.
You looked like a 40 year-old college student.
I remember you.
Do you remember what I look like?
I’m taller.
Y mas feo.
I have glasses, tambien.

I remember coming back from a funeral
When my mom told me you left.
I was confused
I was lost
I lost
a friend.

I remember getting my poems back with a letter written by you.
You told me what I already knew and gave me more feed-back.
I still have the notebook you gave me.
Un-tattooed and only marked by the sweat of my palms.
I carry it with a pen always in hand,
like Manuel Pablo Lopė z did.

And I would stop and stare into the
Vast open Valley fields and let my
Imagination wander.
Then write it down in that notebook.

The Valley needs you, Mr. Lopė z.
The lettuce heads cry your name.
The wind blowing the alfalfa whispers
your name, Mr. Lopė z.

I found you on the internet,
and I wrote to you.
I missed you.
Still do.
And I was angry, Mr. Lopė z
Angry with you.

I’m sorry, Mr. Lopez,
but I was angry.
I was angry.
I’m not anymore,
But I was.