Chicano Poet

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

When The Barrio

for la erika

When after the barrio was swept clean,
it was still a barrio.

Chamaco walked proudly.
Young and old alike

knew the meaning of it all.
Tortillas smelled good,

puffy, buttered and salted.
Chamaco said a word or two

by Woodlawn Lake.
He strutted,

ventured as far as the Alamo
to spit.

Roamed back home
like a gnome.

Even after the barrio was swept clean
there was enough dirt to make Chamaco king.

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