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Houston,
you once took a boy in
who knew nothing;
and drawing him
in you showed him
that many would know you
by different names,
but he
would forever,
know you
as Houston.

You showed him
that in your asphalt arms
the world's workers
could come and dream,
but eventually must wake
to grind out a grueling compromise
in your salty, rusted
shopping strips,
and in your musty,
carpeted

mazes.

Houston,
yo u once took a boy in,
and showed him that a family
was nothing and everything;
but could never
be close enough,
when life began
its hushed,
and intimate
lesson.

You showed him
that a stranger could speak
a strange language
and still comfort,
share a last name
and still betray,
and show a kind face
and still hurt.

Houston,
you taught that boy
that life has many stages,
and that none
could be rushed, cheated,
or circumvented.

You saw beginnings, and ends,
desperate plans
and necessary genius;
you witnessed
joyful phone calls
and people crying
on your cracked
and crumbling
curbs.

Always
you hit hard,
and though you rewarded
many boys with second chances,
smiling, you
promised to forever charge a fee
anytime your name
was mentioned.

Houston,
I pay your importunate fee,
and still recall,
how in your sweaty, Southern
streets, lined with palms
and thirsting for dust,
a boy,
drenched in it all,
lying in it all,
felt one
with the innocent,
slumbering
multitude.

M any know you
by different names,
but I will
forever
know you
as Houston.

Learn more about this author, Alvaro Ramos.
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