Desperado Goes To The Zocalo

I call it the "smokalo", 'cause I

can smoke there. Center of town,

school children, early teens,

in uniform, so cheerful and sweet,

hugging their friends, how delightful!

Ran into old gringo blues player from

Chicago. We did our elderly damn-it-all

dance, glad we live in a town that doesn't

know too much, where they still sing

loudly and carry on their nothing-better-

to-do traditions that used to be some 

previous experience of their ancestors, 

but now is just something that happens 

so they can feel a bit connected to some

continuity and don't have to think too much.

They don't seem spoiled...one girl shouts 

to her friend, notices me and says: "oh, 

pardon...". They really seem to love each 

other. People in American cities should

come here just to see this before it too is

gone. I've met some real humans here, 

the dying breed, who respect old people

which means they respect people in 

general...and my landlord's three year old

that look at me so happy as if I was the 

greatest thing he'd never seen before.

I've been desperado my whole life to try

and ascertain W-T-F was going on and why

everyone was telling me what I should do

as if they were happy. I can see what's 

going on here, and, much of it is lovely.

As a preserve, it's still game.