Walk with the kids
You knew as friends
Their stretched necks
Up above the parade
Backpacks full of shit
You never tried
Knives and guns
More blood seen
Than in the movies.
Riots up the halls where
For a brief afternoon we
The minorities hurl everything in
Sight worth throwing
At the police
Pepperspray marks itself
In your mind and the only
One to take a bottle to
The face is your shy friend.
Roll down Hyde Park
Get a fade, number 1
And some Tres Flores
Slick it back smooth
And greasy wetbacks
Take the word
Spit it out like pride
In your chest
Where you know
The only ones to say it
Out loud are yourselves.
Learning is a gringo’s game
The only question
On every puto’s mind
Is where you from?
And you don’t want to
Say you’re from nowhere.