Out here traditions play
in non-traditional ways
with all the fashionable signs
the walks the colors the faces
the lingos.
Out here no river no hill
no country but the one we will
bang with hammers and burn
with welding torches until
it is just right.
Cesar still lives here
one way or another
after all these years
mother to the peon.
Out here away and close
enough to be more desirable
than the already mostly occupied
not cheap and tree lined
white streets.
Out here a cat slinks
not what the man thinks
is behind what he sees
all the players and punks
have a place.
Out here doesn’t matter
to the mother what the father
left to settle down here
as long as he is better
not looking back.
Cesar still lives here
one way or another
after all these years
mother to the peon.
Out here chickens roosters
strut while they produce
an excess of goods and cultures
too plainly too other
a true carniceria.
What used to be out here
was all we could see or hear
without slipping between cracks
the corner store the back yards
the not quite smiles.
Out here no river no hill
no country but the one we will
bang with hammers and burn
with welding torches until
it is just right.
