san felipe may creep a mile a minute
guillermina is in it to win it poverty is no friend
of conscience revealed the skinny canopy sways
like a skirt if we try to flirt with the market
it will respond favorably the sun is nothing less
than an impossible orb it fails to emit the heat
of our memories in the dog-eat-dog of casa de morelos
the stalls march like ants their queen
sits far away she drinks the blood of adulterated children
out of a porcelain jicara her old lady hunchback
is a pathetic ranchero climbing the cerro
del fortin sprinters get lean pinche culero's mean business
seldom is seen a smile as subtle as a lampshade
guillermina is an angel in a redress
for the crimes committed we can't imagine
all the hurt that is sealed up in zocalo
sidewalk cracks
up the entire planet
-thank goddess
for this reservoir
of faith.
