BOYLE

Chavez clava Los Angeles
en los que no have
and those on the west side
Pero sin verguenzas
no te metas con mis Cadillac
chancletas. Orale, pues
mas tarde se acalambrio el atardecer
and the Datsuns and Subarus and helicopters
on the 5 south or the 10 east
chaparro each other with green rope twine
and it sounds like sooty waves
street-legal muffler ombligo
paleteros and ice-cream vatos
the random Don Bigotes with
diver's cap of Just for Men
and Marks-It-All sideburns
the ancient vagos playing golfito
across the street from burger filling
at the foot of the hospital that should be called
Brown Memorial, or in the septic duck funk misted
indelible at Hollenbeck adonde uno puede
holler back at the EMF of a Union rep
and wear black sox with huaraches
because you don't want cold calves.