Saturday, September 23, 2006


2 nights in a row
I have been pulled over
The cops don’t ask
For money anymore

They just ask quick questions like:
“¿Cómo andas?”
And I said something to the effect of
“Ando bien”

I see how he’s holding his pistol
Ready pull it out
From his holster
Gringo style

I read his name badge
I always like to know the name
Of those who consider
Sending me
6 feet under

And I can tell he’s wearing
A bullet proof vest
I also know
I don’t have a chance

I reach for the glove compartment
To look for a lost
Vehicle registration card

And when he sees
My hand
Getting so close
He said
It’s okay
You can go

And I said
Something like
“Have a nice day”
Or something efficient
Like that

And the 1 that
Stopped me tonight
Had a lot of
Saints around
His wrist
And he saw
A lot of
Worn comfortable
Prayers around mine

He was concerned
With how I maneuver
My left turns
He asked me
Why I drive this way
And I could do
Was show him
The huevos
I had just bought

I told him I was
Running late
And that I needed to
Take care of my family

Then he said he was going to
Take me to a judge
And let him or her decide
If I needed to pay a fine
I told him I would follow him
And he said
“No, I will follow you”

I started my engine
And drove towards the
Unknown judge
Towards the unknown
Destination and I
Looked in my rearview mirror
I could see no police car
Following me
So I looked for this policeman
All over downtown
And I got tire of looking
And drove home
Amongst the unbearable traffic

Wednesday, September 20, 2006


I don’t like Kinko’s
But sometimes
There’s no other choice
But to stare at
The apathetic employees
Burdened by
The sadness
Of mergers

This morning
Was different
I was able to get
Across the border
Without incident

I sometimes feel
½ the inspectors
Are friendly
And the other .5
Would like to see me
On the wrong side
Of the fence

My truck
Passed inspection
It also passed
CHP officers
As they worked
Detained cars
The 1’s driven
By the working class

This time Kinko’s
Was also different
The worker
That helped me
Looked a lot
Like a crazy
American youth pastor
That used to
Imitate sumo wrestlers
On Mexican summer trips

He paid close attention
To detail
And even made
A literary comment
About my poem
He was the best Kinko’s guy
He should be the owner

Tuesday, September 19, 2006


In the morning sun
I was told
There was
A Santana wind coming

I drove towards
The border
And the line
Was so short
Like a snake
Chopped off
With a machete

The inspector had
The sun’s radiance
On her face
As if she had just
Come down
A holy mountain
Bless her soul

In the organic store
I was offered
Crackers with cheese
I ate them
Inside a freezer

My friend was
Kind enough
To share his food
With me
I shared a poem
With him

He paid money
For his food
I traded
My vanity
For the poem

Sunday, September 17, 2006