Maria Elizabeth Rodriguez is a nurse, theater nerd, and cosplayer. A long time poetry fan, she has recently returned to the role of poet, diving in with great enthusiasm and a drive to grow. She lives in Long Beach with two cats who enjoy “helping" her sew.

To The Fuck Buddy Who Cannot Be Named, Because I Never Learned Her Name

To our first meeting 

you brought a cock 

this long and 

this wide and 

your bright red sex chair 

that you had bought at Target 

and dragged a block and a half 

from the nearest street parking to my condo

To our second 

you brought several demands

a conviction that I was your match

and a blues playlist so banging 

that I talked to you 

for two extra days

just to snag it

It was worth it

​

When I look in your eyes at our grandmother’s funeral

​

I see a stranger looking back at me, 

not the little boy 

I used to bounce on my knee

Not the Batman who held 

my Catwoman's hand 

as we raced through the park, grass turning 

brown at the edges 

where busted sprinklers fail to provide water

as you tell me a 4 year olds’ secrets 

I will take to the grave.

I see a young man who loathes me, who fears

the changes I can bring.  Sullen and angry,

so like our father already at 15..

I promised I’d come back 

when I said goodbye to a 

smaller you. 

I said I would never 

let him destroy you

and I tried, 

oh, little brother how I tried.

But beating against the concrete wall 

of return to sender and 

no you can’t visit 

wears even the strongest down.  

And I have never been the strongest

And the truth hits me

like the car crash our father always 

wanted to cause.

You are already broken.

And I am never coming back.