"Sat Vacant"
Never said much.
Gestured.
Spoke in bags of vine-ripe tomatoes.
Grease-marked sacks of Mexican pastries.
In twenties slipped to us at Christmas.
Sat, mostly.
Over pork skins and eggs. Menudo.
On benches twice his age.
Texas Avenue fixture.
Behind the wheel of Aunt Lala's latest hand-me-down.
Passed over still-tagged shirts
For an old favorite.
Hat cocked left.
Walked a weighted waddle,
Pant cuffs hugging Stacey Adams heels.
Retired garbage collector.
Gentle watchman.
Happy
I think.
Happy.
Before rumor had him running.
As far from Texas Avenue
As despair would lead.
Onto deserted dirt road.
Mercedes, Texas.
Where at 77 he took a .22
And stopped rumor cold.
And at El Rey Bakery on
Parched Texas Avenue,
His booth sat vacant.
Expecting Don Chepe.
Who sat.
Having surrendered to whispers.
Free.
I think.
Breathless.
Behind the wheel of Aunt Lala's latest hand-me-down.
~ Robert Rodriguez ~
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©1998 Robert Rodriguez/ RedBird Café