Chicano Poet

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Pit Stop

We made pinpoint progress toward the mountain
sun shining like a fish in the sky

the cumbersome distance seemed to get smaller
the glittering dish of the climb

an example of descent
the propeller like a snake

let loose on someone’s desperate breath
should the convertible run out of gas

inky walks would not be good
each screen to separate sand from us

we kept driving and convulsing into the double night
until it tripled itself

until we had to stop
so abuela could pee


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