En el Caserio

 

A mother's prayers are news flashes from the periodic omitting her sons name

 

While he says

No Tengo miedo a morir (I do not fear death)

 

5 am conversations consist of Bendicion Mami and sighs of relief

that her saved eulogy goes unrecited for one more day

 

300$ water bill, paid

 

2 jobs later at 5 dollars an hour, 10 pm conversations hold her heart in her throat as hijo, stay home fall on broken hearted ears and homes leave his soul incomplete 

 

Mami, la Calle me llama

 

Streets bear his name to deepthroat him into the heat of hell and andrenaline where zombies roam and lives cost less than  $2 a bullet

 

Clocking into underground entrepreneurship he is a physician and a chemist

 

CPA by dawn as long as blood and bullet wounds do not become the new hat he is offered in exchange for paying mamis utilities

 

Mami I am sorry

 

I hustle in your self defense, the domestic violence of politicians eating caviar with our money has left bruises in the capability to find a job that pays enough to cover the inflated bills

Inflation builds contusions around the coqui 's pleas while wages remain the same as the 1990s

 

Punches to the dignity of the hardworking mothers with side jobs and no cupones

 Doctors abandon the island leaving false magicians to kill the rest of their humanity, prescription only

Survival is a strategic game

Of hide and seek, because nadie! Talks with the police as they reach down the broken laws pockets and ask for dirty deposits.

 

This is just one conversation, of nightmare filled premonitions en el Caserio as politicians dream in hotel brand sheets looking down from the mountains

While dropout business men, quit childhood becoming street junkies and branded as criminal fiends within the concrete jungla where hope never sleeps

 

Bendicion Mami- me voy para la calle