The Moya View

Juanito’s Dream

Image credit: Brice Gelot.

Juanito grew up with a velveteen rabbit
in his hand and a gun by his side.

On his sixth birthday his junkyard owning Dad
gave him a clutch of rainbow balloons.

He climbed the rusted skeleton of a Cadillac,
held the beautiful Mylar to the sky

and prayed to be taken to heaven.
The answer was the sour tasting rain.

On his sixteenth birthday his Dad gifted
him a lowrider made from a gold Eldorado.

Juanito’s Dream had clouds melting
in strings of yellow sunshine,

purple velvet trim all inside and a
Smith & Wesson .38 in the glove box.

Amara and Angela, the most popular girls,
slid close, next to him, in the warm front seat.

There names were tattooed grandly
on their torsos in a Castilian script.

Their two black and white pit bulls
jumped into the back, playfully feuding.

The threesome cruised around, chanting :
“Bajito y despacito; limpio y lindo.”
( Low and slow, clean and mean.)

A noisy police helicopter on routine patrol
hovered overhead , followed briefly, then left,

disappearing into the sky and palms,
pass the billboard proclaiming
“La ciudad no es segura.”
(The city is not safe.)

When they got to Pueblo del Rio
projects, they kissed and departed,

agreeing to do this all over again
for Halloween and Dia de los Muertos.

When Juanito opened his eyes
the day became forever night,

a loud bang pierced his dreams and
his head slumped into his velvet love.

Halloween came. So did Dia de Los Muertos.
Thirteen low riding Eldorados with death mask drivers

prowled the street during the fiestas.
The people wondered, argued, believed, feared

that surely, as they lived and breathed, that
one of them must have been Juanito’s Dream.





One response to “Juanito’s Dream”

  1. caroline46 Avatar

    This is excellent!

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