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Date Posted: 22:07:48 09/30/04 Thu
Author: Dimon
Author Host/IP: 63-228-114-158.tukw.qwest.net / 63.228.114.158
Subject: Something Without Translation (For SouthWest Blvd)

Hector doesn't love me on the line.
Five-thirty we share squares on the corner,
but there's no room for an Irishman
in the barrio.

We gut each other on concrete,
spilling livers with shivs of argot.
The living metal of blood in our spittle
on any morning
I slept with his momma,
or he my sister,

gray

when the man comes around.


"Perro!"
"Meri.., Truck!"
and the whole man-neigborhood hugs each other,
screaming, waving.
Hector has my wrist,
selling bravado.
Sm.

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