Mariposa Azteca

just when you thought
the barrio

and your fellow vatos
y rucas

would last forever
you have to face

the ugly verdad
de la cara

en el espejo
looking back at you

asi son las cosas
grita la cara

right to your face
which startles you & stings

then flies off
like a feathered mariposa

por la calle zarzamora
dust cayendo from its golden wings

the kind of dust
abuela warned you of

but you
did not listen, cabrón