Chicano Poet

Friday, February 27, 2009


That night we did Lola in the backseat
of Toribio’s car,

I was fourth in line,
I slid right in,

she made a few little moans
and I was done.

Days later, running into Lola
at Monche’s Grocery Store,

she was buying one cigarette,
(back in those days

Monche would sell them any which way)
Lola smiled at me,

but I was too embarrassed
to acknowledge her,

I bought the bread abuela
had sent me for, and hurried home,

all I could hear was my footsteps
on that gravel street,

each pebble now buried under the asphalt
which they laid down in the Seventies.


At 4:19 AM, Blogger Shania said...

Wow, que bonito! Thanks for sharing and keep up the good work!

At 10:27 AM, Blogger RC said...



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