Saturday, April 21, 2007


The lady sitting next to me
Was from Homeland Security
But she actually
Was kind of pretty
I liked the profile
Of her face

Her tone of voice
Seemed very familiar
She even had
The name of one
Of my cousins
I would have liked
To talk to her more
But she seemed
Kind of nervous

Oh and the teacher!
The teacher had long legs
Like the girls from
A ZZ Top Video
She told me
She was going
To tattoo my name
On her self
So she didn’t forge it

Thursday, April 19, 2007


Agent Alejandro Arrollo
Was near the ocean
An extension of his name
Was close enough
To the salt in the Pacific

He thought my sunglasses
Were suspicious
I though his were unsightly
Scaring away the fish
In the sea

It would be a futile attempt
To try to explain to him
The effect of
Ultra Violet Rays

Since Arrollo
Signifies Creek
I thought perhaps
We would understand
Aquatic language

But that only
Got him obsessed
With my little
Blue car

He searched
My automobile
So I asked
To see the Judge
My request
Activated him
He frisked me

I know he was looking
For a gun
But I only had
The one I was born with
The one God gave me

Usually the wives
Have first pick
And in case
Of emergencies
A concubine

Lord knows I try
To forget about
These themes
Of cats with
Badges and guns

I would like to write
Nice little poems
About pretty girls
And fluttering butterflies
Inside many stomachs

Tuesday, April 17, 2007


When I went in
To claim my property
(My car)
To be specific
The Tijuana cop
Drew his gun
And inserted
A fresh magazine

His eyes were
Focused on me
Motionless in concentration
But my pupils
Followed his
Every movement

And even tough
It was hot outside
It got very cold
Inside the room

He placed
The Italian pistol
Lock and loaded
On the counter
And slid it
Till it was
In front of me

It was
An ugly
Piece of work

It wasn’t pretty
Like a 1911
Or beautifully dependable
Like a Glock
It didn’t have
The capriciously amphibious
Caliber of 45

So I let it go
Then another faceless
Policeman grabbed it
And left

Sunday, April 15, 2007


A cantina owner
Could pay with tequila
For a proper written poem

But anybody that follows
The instructions of a textbook
Can write such a thing

The incentive for the patron
Shouldn’t be an academic attempt
But the voice and
Personal contact of
The poet himself

The ability to create
A completely unique
Field of energy
That flies out
From the mouth
Of the poet
Packaged inside words
Floating on air
That travel
To the human heart
The minds
Of listeners
And the circuitry
Of unknown
Radio stations

Not something
For the history books
Not something about the past
But for the present
For the future

It doesn’t have to be
Good liquor
With nice girls
It can be
A tender kiss
Or a sensual manifestation
It can be a trip
To the movies
With port coming out
Of purses and pockets
Or playful tickles
On the darkness
Of the cinema
Or some coffee
Coffee is always good
Or chocolate
Chocolate is the best
For a better mood