Chicano Poet

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Transcendental Cumbia

I was waddling along like a Mexican duck
when my wife yelled,"you're not dancing a cumbia!",
and I yelled back,"you're damn right!".

For I was in fact dancing a transcendental cumbia
thoughtfully and thoughtfully
I transcendentalized along the barroom floor.

The drunks knew what I was doing
I could see it in their beady eyes,
they were saying to themselves,this guy is good.

The bargirls foamed at the mouth
as I danced along like an American Matador,
no,not the damn car!

What are you guys,uneducated or what?
A young girl wants to dance with me,
but my wife slaps the piss out of her.

we finally leave the Eastside of the freeway
former home of El Tapon.

We head back to the suburbs
where nothing don't mean nothing-----
unless it's followed by dot com.


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