Monday, August 22, 2016

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 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.


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