pachanga

 Published in Brown, Proud y Loud Zine

                   for Luke

A super moon glows over
the roof of a barrio home.
 
A party is underway.
The DJ spins oldies
to fill the silence left
behind by the afternoon
sun. & then the DJ gets
into funk, & the dance floor
floods. All bodies are in synch
to Tierra, Tower of Power,
Stevie Wonder, Malo &
James Brown. Brown bodies
sweating the stress of survival--
the swigs of whisky--
the holy spirit in their soles--
a party of gente, beautiful & bronze.
 
The music continues, rumbling the belly of this barrio.
A man with a Zapata mustache & dark almond skin
asks for the music to fade out.

The man pulls out an accordion,
& all the gente cheer,
¡Ahora sí, cabrones!

The man plays a sorrow-filled song
about the splendor of a lover of long ago--
he conjures the shadows of all the partygoers
& makes them dance too.

Between the funk & conjunto,
the party is caught in a flux:
the present-day attempt to
identify ourselves as gente
of these Chicano barrios &
the memories we’ve inherited
from our parents--
memorias de tierras
sacred & solemn.
 
The moon is witness to it all.
Gente, beautiful & bronze,
basking in the revelry
of all these colliding things,
of all this mezcla.