Salchicha con Juevo
The scene was sprayed with a breakfast fix,
Even the dust heads stopped riffing for free.
Out came the mandolins for the mandarins,
Violins for the vespers—Our Thing
Used to be for the stay alive, the sangre viva,
The sacred & the snakes, too. When her
Heart exploded, you could see fame’s
Chipped tooth, the house-‐fire, the attempt—
Not one but two. Her rubies were stashed
In paper bags, Bustelo cans, graveyard dirt.
Told Rose in downbeat, in up-‐tempo, told her:
Yo, you could be the center of your song, but
You can’t be the star of it, babe.