love.lulu

Welcome to Chihuahua, home of the women killers and drug lords.

In Guadalupe, Our Lady weeps, as children sell themselves in the streets.
Near the edge of town stands a refuge, a ranch of pastels, of buildings pink, teal, green.

Meander over the Rio Grande which, here in Guadalupe, is nothing more than a dirty creek.
Enter in through the dust, the gates, past the Bienvenidos a Rancho 3m sign.
Xanadu’s misery can tell nothing of this place of desolate lands, trash-filled shacks surrounding.
Inside the ranch, cats run free, food is not a royalty.
Children here are not for sale, rescued from themselves, their city.
Outside the gates, packs of wild dogs ravage trash cans and beloved cats.

In Guadalupe, Our Lady weeps, as children sell themselves in the streets.

Five days here is enough to erase the pains of civilized weight from the mind.
Early morning processions of tired cows parade down dirt paths, herded by a red pickup.
Love is jolting bus rides over the Rio to ice cream in the city, holding hands with Karlita.
Love is ice cream—nine flavors—and playing chicken on shoulders in the Parque de Central.

In Guadalupe, Our Lady weeps, as children sell themselves in the streets.
Night falls—watch as a girl, 9, in a miniskirt walks up to a black, vibrating SUV. She has one earring too many.

Lingering scents of burning trash and human waste, telltale signs of running, bleeding
Open sewers once pervading every inch of breath are long forgotten in this
Vast expanse of modern wasteland, home of these blessed pastel buildings, of chavos’ faces.
En un año, volveré a ti.

…now that poetry class is over, i have this strong urge to write poems, lots of them.

hope you like them…