Mezcla

THIS MESTIZO THING HAS ME ALL MIXED UP

by Manuel Ramos, all rights reserved

To ease the arthritic pressure
I sit slumped
in a plastic chair in
a suburban gazebo
from a kit
that sits steadfast
in the back yard
of my urban casita -
Santa Fe tile over a Denver brick box.


My fat bud, Buddha,
serenely grins
at my wife's sad
but reverent Virgen flag
flapping in the dry wind,
while I try to understand
the sad
but existentially true
stories of the Chilean novelist
who had to wait for death
to find readers.

Charanga Cakewalk entertains
from a portable music maker
and I marvel
at where La Onda Chicana has landed,
the legacy of Sunny Ozuna,
or maybe
I wonder whatever happened to ?
(Note to myself - google Mysterions.)

Last night we danced
to Al Hurricane and Al, Jr.,
me more reluctant than she,
talked about the good old days,
during Sentimiento
I compared godfathers -
Senior's patent leather hair
reminded me of James Brown's pompadour
back in those same good old days.

I sip on excellent Grechetto
from Umbria,
snack on roasted piñon
and salt-free soy nuts,
and pine
for a Tami's Large with everything
including fries.

The mexicanos next door are having
another baptism
or quinceañera
or graduation
or yard sale,
and they seem so happy about it
that I gulp the wine
and laugh.

I catch Buddha laughing, too,
and even the morose lady
from Guadalupe
cracks a smile.

______________________________________________


Later