Chicano Poet

Friday, June 25, 2010


They talked of poetry, but the underlying
conversation was about them. The poems
he had been writing since he was ten were
about her. He did not know it at the time
of course, but they were about her. Every
single one of them: about her. So it was
inevitable that one day they would meet.
No matter what the odds were, they would
meet. Their lives would cross paths, no
matter what, they would come face to face,
embrace and kiss. If a comet hit him on the
head, he would dust himself off. If she
walked into the path of a speeding train,
her lipstick would smear the derailed train,
but she must be on her way to meet him.
It was their destiny. Even if it wasn’t their
destiny, they would have found a way ar-
ound it. They would not allow any other
way to exist.

her her
her her

her her

her her



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