Frederico Garc�a Lorca writing about Granada,
but not staying.
Langston Hughes writing about Sweet Harlem,
and staying.
Willie Perdomo re-opening fire hydrants
all across 125th.
Pedro Pietri writing his last poem
on a helicopter. (Thank you, Agent Orange.)
Chico spray painting Pietri�s eyes
on the face of the Nuyorican.
Speedo, Pietri's son, keeping daddy�s poems alive
with matching black hat, black suitcase, black dress up.
Victor Hernandez-Cruz writing about Loisaida,
but not staying.
Miguel Pi�ero writing about Loisaida,
and staying.
Old barrio poets re-opening their mouths
every morning in a trendy college town,
but hardly anyone is listening.
Me, pockets broke, thirsty, walking home in Alphabet City,
wondering what was, is, will be, wont be, and noticing
a�uelos hanging on the corner, Friday after-work,
sipping cervezas, remembering the bodega
in front of a new spa for upper white folks
disregrading what was, is, will be, wont be, me,
or another indigenous,
up and down Avenue A,
with black fist,
blowing up all 14, fire hydrants.