city park, denver.
the ball, smeared with damp grass, gets passed
like the cup at holy communion,
a short time after mass, and a field
overwhelmed by dandelions
becomes a parade ground for something more,
as two teams of migrant workers
drunk on corona and the promise of tamales
attempt to make soccer history.
at play, in fields of agave,
the hillside studded with silver stilletos
that produce the nectar beloved
in both hilltop castles and lamina ghettos.
daydreams like this come to an end
as rigo is fouled; suddenly,
his knee cannot bend.
the white audience lurks on the periphery,
not accustomed to seeing these men
without rakes, dishwashing rags, or
a foreman's helmet.
