Chicano Poet

Monday, July 12, 2010

El Grito

Dolores del Grito
was a compiler,

she used unimaginable
computer languages

to catalog and condense
into understandable human terms,

things that would otherwise
boggle the mind.

Speaking of that,
she was having a little trouble herself---

concentrating had become
quite a task lately,

since she kept thinking of sex.
She missed Juanito,

damn chaparrito was off to the moons
of Jupiter again.

This business of satisfying herself
was not working anymore.

She had half a mind
of asking Isidra

if she could “borrow” Rey
next time his ship

made a pit stop.
But she was embarrassed to ask

even though it was something
which was accepted,

since there were more women
than men

on this godforsaken corner
of the solar system.

Is there really a sun,
or is it just an ancient rumor,

she asked herself
as she crunched

more numbers
into the stupid computer.

“Shinelas, Dolores, get aholt of yourself.”,
she heard herself say out loud.

Debbie Rodgers, another compiler,
smiled curiously at herself,

and kept on pecking
like a chicken at her keyboard.


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