Lost in the whirlwind, ninety-six, Bonnie and Clyde...

So check it out. My homegirl and my Dad's friend here, Diana Marie Delgado, is getting some of her poetry published in the upcoming issue of Indiana Review! That means, D is on her way to becoming the New Generation's Lorna Dee Cervantes. (Now now...she still more than a Loose Woman, who breaks things, ping ping...that's so 1980s). Anyway, you should check out her work, yo. She went to my Dad's grad school and she knows how to treat a dog. In fact, she's even written a poem called "Wolf!" ...but I don't think it's about a dog...

Here we are partying like gangstas in the NYC. Man, I hardly remember anything from that night. That's what I get from hanging out with a California Chola. New Mexico cholas don't even come close. Shout out to my girl, D!

Wolf

Wolf can’t walk so he sends me
to the liquor store for Sisco
and two loose cigarettes.
Babe, he yells after me

make sure it’s the pink one,
orange doesn’t give a good buzz.
I look up and the sun is flashing,
the pavement grain aglitter.

Earlier, he lifted the cushion
of his chair to show me a gun
wrapped in shoeshine rags.
Just in case—he said, pointing the gun

toward the cawing field across the street.
Weeks had passed since the fire
but the birds still circled, searching
for something to land on.


© Diana Marie Delgado