The two Purple Hearts there on the wall
of my mother’s rundown house,
advertisement to the fact
that I had to be one of the dumbest vatos
ever shipped off to Nam.
When I got back, my wife Connie left me.
Because I couldn’t hold a job, she said.
So I got into drugs, went fishing
at La Punta everyday, smoked dope,
started hanging around with the wrong crowd,
the pinche cops from my dying town,
and the asshole district attorney
called it organized crime.
Now I sit in the pen for life.