Chicano Poet

Friday, June 01, 2007

Artemio’s Attire

The katun of cool came and went,
Artemio none the worst for wear,
square and squarer still,

long hippie hair or leisure suit,
Army pants, patch-work quilt jeans,
Artemio all the same.

Always casting an eye
on the human pre-condition,
almost as if he wasn’t human himself,

his pelt hung on him by evolution,
the kind of evolution
man will never understand,

but, Artemio thinks he’s caught a glimpse,
in the dense jungle, in the bare desert,
in the crowded cities, in abandoned towns.

Yes, the streets of town empty,
except for the asphalt,
and a horned-toad that scampers across it,

looks at Artemio in the eye
at high noon
like a desperate Gary Cooper.


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