Ventana

I followed the mangy dog
into a barrio

you could count the bones
of his ribs and shoulders

the sunken eyes
of its lost race

no illustrious ancestors
no hope to lick while waiting for tomorrow

children threw stones
at him

drunks kicked at him
old ladies yelled at him

with his tail between his legs
he saw his reflection in a storefront window

startled
I recognized myself