we  sing along the side of the road

waiting for another mexican american jazz hit

to come along the intergallactic radio dial

waiting for tonatiuh to show us the way back home

we are just sitting here knowing that the inevitable is

evitable. ghosting away the silence of lost generations

we have become both the bridge and the border

a metaphor of metaprose waiting to break open

another song. waiting to become the poems

of trilingual gibberish open to the word of the world

there are scribblings inside children’s notebooks

in the back of the classroom. mayan azteca mestizo

graffiti glyphs that will be crumbled into the pockets

of lonely chicanas waiting for something other than

wordsworth or chaucer. waiting of cisneros and rodriguez

to pour through their veins . Popul Vuh tatooted in their D.N.A.

they’re waiting for the ghost to arrive somewhere in a dead end

back alley. waiting for the walls to scrawl their names etched

in their spines.

www.waterhummingbirdhouse.com
www.chicanocoloringbooks.com
https://www.etsy.com/shop/IzzySquared

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