Friday, June 22, 2007


Pedro el ratón
Did not want to see
The judge
To settle matters

He got nervous
And walked away

I got some cheese
For him
But he didn’t eat
Someone suggested

All Amezquita
Would say is
Call us again
When it happens

A persistent problem
Wire gets stolen at night

And during
The daytime
El ratón burns plastic
And copper

The old man
Who likes to make carnitas
Got all excited
When he saw
The patrolman
So close to his hut

From his mouth
Flowed the most
Vibrant language
He sang to me like
A wild poet

It’s okay
I’ll return the favor to him
I will write music for his words
And make a song

Tuesday, June 19, 2007


The hippest
Of all
Is the one that
Sits on top
Of the humvee

Holding the
Grenade launcher

Heavy artillery
Is poetic
In this corner
Of Latin-American

I don’t know why
The talk radio host
Speaks rubbish
About this company

They always say hello
To my children
As we drive by
And then wave goodbye
In the friendliest
Of fashions

As for me
Delightful thoughts
Come and
I secretly imagine
Pressing the trigger
I also dream with
Taking the
Whole rig home
And placing it
At my homestead

This reminds me of
My childhood
How we played
Inside the
WWII bunkers
Located not far from
The military check point

It was much better
Than the videogames
We couldn’t afford

Expensive monitors

I suspect
The children
Of this region
Would like it too

Monday, June 18, 2007


Yet another Cherokee
With California
License plates

This one is grayish
Perhaps mid 80’s

It served as tow rig
For station wagon
In bad shape

2 no—class cholos
Were in
The jeep
(There’s high class cholos
Low grade cholos)

One of them was
At least smart
And kept quiet
As I questioned
Pedro el Raton
Abut the owner
Of the property
He has in disarray

The other one
The bona fide estupido
Opened his mouth
And with colorful language
Told me how much
He liked me

I guess the right thing
To do
Is to welcome him
Into the family
To take care of him
And lookout for him
As a long lost brother

How unpredictable
Is the path kinship