January 29, 2014

A Poem, For Edgar Acosta

Ode, Edgar
Days are long
and nights are tired

We really should
hang out more often

Our ladies get sleepy early
and we smoke weed

A Poem, by Edgar Acosta

aging punks no power chords—
outgrew those years ago
but our inner ’hawks stand, still Tall
Tales from the ride to rehearse
before we put you in a hearse
booted from the band

on york another hipster tease
neil young and baby sneeze
River, los angeles? or just a stream

oh, throbbing heart of taco trucks!
feeding cholos everywhere
avenues gang, we “get” your bad graffiti
we promise to stop covering it up
if you’ll only learn to punctuate

withered flower monuments
mark the latest drive-by shooting
as a commercial shoots down the street
ever wonder what baghdad’s like?
stop by on fourth of july

the president lived here
maybe made it with your mama
after selling marijuana

and sasha green recorded down the street
at abbey road, but western-style
she’s a “messenger” with an “A”
Super A

and the roving chihuahuas yelp:
come te lo entero, es del paletero.
as a bass guitar plays roots and fifths
somewhere in the ’hood

you might even see a UFO, but look closer—
the dodgers are playing
it could just be a sombrero