Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal


Cofessions Of A Billionaire

When I was 5
I created the Internet.
I left my post
at the White House
to count cards at
casinos in Las Vegas
and Atlantic City .

When I was 6
I met my second wife.
My first wife was
a one night stand
in Atlantic City .
We wed, honeymooned,
and split up the same day.

I left her 5 shares
of stock in eBay and
Google, but she
sold them for blow
and crystal meth.
Now she is a Paranoid
Schizophrenic.

Thirty years later
I have nothing left in the bank.
I gave it all
to the poor. I have been
hopping trains like
a hobo ever since.
I miss hot showers.


Life Rests

The streets
are still.
The garrulous birds
and crows sleep.
Incidents
and accidents
are down this hour.

This hour
life rests.
The lights are red
in the broad streets.
Cars and pedestrians
are home.
You may say
they’re at peace.
There is silence.


Near Sadness

I was near sadness.
I saw your face. I
held your hand. It was
the dream without end.

You walked out the door.
It was morning and
my miserable
heart was somber. I

was near sadness. I
felt strange, near madness,
and singing a song
in a low tone. I

wept and woke up. I
felt perturbed. I heard
a voice. It was yours.
I dropped your ashes.


Waiting On The Rain

Waiting on the rain,
I settle for a bit of wind.
It’s something.
I always say
I love the air with spice.

Some fresh rain,
a bit of wind,
I don’t mind.