Sunday
just before dawn
There came a brief, hard desert rain
I wheeled my old bicycle out
Into the morning puddles
And headed downtown - into the Barrio
Not sure why
but I like it down here
Narrow streets that are alive
Old adobe houses painted bright pink
And yellow, purple, orange and lime green
Chickens in a yard
A bright metallic blue '63 Impala
Low rider with the doors open
The player blasting a Ranchero accordion
Out onto the street
Someone is cooking frijoles
Someone else chicken
A couple of vatos in baggy Dickies
Pass a joint as they change a flat on an Accord
As I glide through the smoke
They shoot me the requisite hard looks
An old black dog in a narrow spot of sun
Barely raises his head as I pass
Then lets it drop
I'm not worth barking at
There's a young woman on the corner
With Medusa hair - thick and heavy
Flying away in all directions
A fire of black snakes
She smiles - I ache
Santana blares from a window
A door slams a dog barks
I hear a woman singing
A guy patches his roof
Another guy sits in the yard with a bottle
A fading mural of skeletons sleeping
In the ground
as Conquistadores march overhead
A grizzled, grey guy about my age
Brown beret and a beat up leather jacket
Swings up into an ancient pick-up
La Raza sticker in the window
In the evening
My son drops by with his lady
I've made a pot of chili
And we sit and talk
Looking into their bright eyes
I wonder if their's is the last
generation to reach adulthood
I can't think of that
My son hugs me tight as they leave
And I whisper - Just live - Live it all!
Then listen to his little pick-up
Growl out into the night
© 2003 - Bob Gouge