You And Me In The Zombie Flick
You tell me that you’d be a survivor,
smart enough to stay out of the way.
I peg myself the second guy
to figure it all out,
who picks up
the key and opens the heavy door
before being swallowed up
in the undead-stuffed corridor.
We omit the promise of wasting
each other
and kiss good luck
before our fight against
a horde of ex-people
devouring toward us.
I think a thought as secret as the tiny
bite wound I hide:
I would end you
if the village depended on it.
You’d do the same
for me.
What I Said One Time When A Woman Called Me Jose
“Not all Mexicans are named Jose
and not all Mexicans are Mexican, and,
in fact, there are other countries
where they also speak Spanish,
and I am actually a U.S. citizen born in this country
and English is my first language.”
I stopped when she apologized for being
inconsiderate, said it was an honest mistake,
and my mean streak kicked in to convert
her guilt into a seething sun’s glare when I told her,
“That’s okay, my middle name is Jose.”
Related: More ‘Viva Macondo’ entries
