Chicano Poet

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Pitter Patter

Her broken heart
made her groggy.

Her vagina
had been in a skirmish with a boy.

Digging out kisses
from his collar.

His hands
like buses in the nasty barrio.

The diesel fumes
made a ring around her finger.

She thought
that'd be enough.

The veins in her dress
dark blue.

Her mind for sale now
at the very same pulga

where her ex drinks a beer
straight out of the ground.


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