Southside Afternoon Spent Wishing for the Good Times to Come Back Again
In Memory of a Homeboy from the San Juan Courts



i. Zarzamora Street

Rims, rims, metal flake and vergüenzas!
Vengancias flare while ranflas nod.
Trucha! That tapa, that placa--De aquellas.
Bulges and spit, guey.
Congratulate me for my endurance and mis sufrimientos.


ii. Dominoes y 40s: Travels to the C&L

I watched. Homeboy takes it in the lung.
Down. So down. Couldn’t hear the air
Leaking outta him but I could hear his suspiros.
Write me a kite. Just write.

A knee never caressed tierra like yours.
Never knew in the vast bend of hard cartilage and
permanencia that scent we old school homies know
as Eternidad, 3 Flores, 3 gueys.
Ay te watcho.


iii. In the Name of the Father

Less vatos. Billows of humo and mescal.
Huezo will dangle like Puppet-veins and disaster.
This homenaje. This feria.

The sun, that sun, wide eye one of the sky unleashes:
Melancholy, barrio symphonies.
And Road construction abound!
Armies of ojas blot the horizon.


iv. Espalda, Mi Ofrenda

That thump. Brenton Wood and my bass.
River overcomes its banks. My cora, eyelids,
Cuero, the amp: bump, guey. Can you feel that bump?

Clowns and pompadours hold tight vigils.
Watchtowers wait for guato, and
we are all veteranos when love is involved, all of us.

La Virgencita aglow atop this old homeboy’s back.