TIJUANA MORNING


He said
Wake up
His hair was
Nicely combed
He was wearing a
Bright red sweater
And blue pants
As his uniform

His olive skin
A product of
A perfect combination
In a night of fire

He was
Standing upright
And he was
Looking at me
In a nonchalant mode

SOFA DREAM


As I sleep
On the sofa
My 5 year old
Puts a blanket
Over me

And I dream
Of better times

Of wheels turning
And of
The girl
Who liked
To blow my face

She had a good smile
And garlic breath

THE STREETS
OF TÍA JUANA


Your touch
Full of tender
Carnitas

Your hands
Are music

Your skin
A melody

Bombastic perhaps
But nonetheless
A song

You are healing
You are getting better

I have learned
To write
On the lines
Of your body

A love story

The disease
Is going away
The medicine
Is working