Chamaco At The Alamo

Chamaco was a loose canon

blasting the hell out of the Alamo

look at them gringos run

he was having too much fun

Chamaco thought better of it

but his cabeza said nah

he had a gut feeling

(like when you eat tripas)

that he was doing the right thing

the canon balls flew and slew

later those inside became heroes

but for now they were zeroes

by the same guy who wrote Richard Cory:)

Elvin Escalante

His girlfriend was low on air.
Easy fix.

Her vagina
was made in China.

She made love
like hot dead girl.

Her orgasms
were wonderful he thought.

God had given her
everything man-made.

Inside his head
were thoughts he did not share.

Inside his head
all was exceedingly well

until the very day
he died.

He never harmed a flea
his tearful mother said.

His girlfriend
was deflated.

Western Swing

Lash LaRue

tricked the desert.

Bad guys

monopolized bad.

Bullets flew.

They had marvelous wings.

Our hero

whipped the Salton Sea.

The horses

were well-endowed.

The girl had to be rescued

from her vagina.

Her petticoats

were made of goats.

Her bonnet

dug around inside her head.

The stagecoach

was missing a tooth.

The desert had a tail to swing.

Our dear sun

longed for air-conditioning.

It would not arrive

for another hundred years.

But we degress.

Lash LaRue

rides tall in the saddle.

His pistols

ride their own dead horse.

The blonde heroine

dresses up her orifice.

The Marshall

seems quite taken with Lash’s lashes.

Lash’s thumb

rides off into the sunset’s hair.

The buttons on his cowboy shirt

go rah rah rah.

A fat dancehall girl

enjoys her manic Monday.

She’s spread-eagled

like an eagle.

Lash

loosens his lasso.

But he’s too much of a gentleman

or worse.

Huntington Park

My girlfriend’s eyes

are rented spiders.

Her vagina

hums my dirty name.

Nopales

were once her little girl.

I being her boyfriend

am but an axe.

The car thinks

and chews mojados.

In the barrio

anything is possible.

Two teenage girls

tower above their own nalgitas.

They are

pierced comadres from hell.

The Mexican radio station

will not suffer.

After a day at the park

I tell my girlfriend and her daughter,

the trees

naturally approve of murder and rape.

The transit bus

just now took a shit in the street,

and the beach

is too far away for lips.

Little Mexican Ice Age

My lover's heart
stands on the lawn.

Moonlight
interviews nice black stars.

Our darling Rio Bravo
spends the night in a motel and wets the bed.

Roses
gather like a gang across the border.

My shirttail
is a mirror.

My lover's thighs are full of paper cuts.
Her nipples soldier on into the night.

I ate the nosy Mexican neighbor's
niece.

My lover puts our dirty love sheets
in the toaster.

Thank God
we are frozen in time.