Aquil Esteban
Jun 2 · 1 min read

On the porch

A yellow jacket flies into the hole of my straw

Believing that submersed under my Long Island Ice Tea is its nirvana

Then it backs out

Floats above

I pick up my Steinbeck to crush it’s exoskeleton against brick that’s lasted a century

For it to be gone

It moves

Slides around the corner

I wonder if that’s what God does with me

Sees me crawling into dark spaces believing it’s where light lives

Heaven in blackness

Removing myself

To become

In the absence of what I wasn’t

Just as God pulls out His Book to crack my skull against this Earth that’s lasted Millenniums

Then reconsidering

I back out

I float around the corner

Leaving my old skin

Burned scabs

Of cuts and bruises

From tussling with Jesus, Buddha and The Prophet

Its not the nectar of the sugar or the alcohol

It’s the straw

The open hole to unknown

To be gone



From the porch

Aquil Esteban

Written by

Writer. Poet. Future father of unmade, unborn Windsor.