by Mike Meraz
I am sitting in a parking lot waiting
for my laundry to dry.
all around me are Latin women
walking, talking, laughing, giggling;
young girls, teenage girls, girls my own age,
older women: hair, hips, eyes, lips, bodies,
breasts. sometimes I think the whole
Mexican culture is based on sex.
one of them locks eyes with me and smiles.
how is a man to stay pure in all this?
I am too shy to approach any of them.
it is my only saving grace.
- Caseworker: Yams and Plantain
- Mixed Messages
- Christ On the Lawn
- Four is greater than pi
- worse than a gun
- something sad and slow
- now i believe
- Reckless Endangerment
- Laundromat Girls
- How Complex Geometry Gets
- it just doesn’t seem like you
- Bring It On
- Cloud Can
- Time Left Over
- Last Night
- The Other Woman
- The Scene of the Crime
- IRON OVERLOAD
- If there’s a Heaven
- Eleven Haiku / In a Narrative Sequence / Designed ...
- empires come and go
- Real Tacos
- To Zygote in My Coffee, 2003-2010
- FUCK YOU, BANK!
- doorbells, mornings and death or (If you are Cunt...
- Navy Days
- Custer’s Last Stand
- the last five days
- a theme
- "how grimly we hold onto our misery"
- "So when death comes it can only take part of you"...
- THE PRESIDENT
- Black Gold; or the Sea of Tears
- ▼ June (37)
- ► 2009 (484)