Two Poems
by Danny Romero 

Old cholos stop me on

the streets of Sacramento,

mistaking me for someone else

from a 1970s barrio.

They ask me:

which way to the

Greyhound station,

Loaves and Fishes,

and do I have a dollar

for the liquor store?

We talk about shooting

dope in Maravilla,

police abuse in San Jose.

California is a state of Mexico,

an anti-Mexican state.

Sacramento is the capital.

I tell old cholos

where to stand

so the light rail train

can finally take them home.

* * * *

Perdoname, Madre

She leaves work at mid-morning

hoping to make up later

the hours she cannot afford to miss

Perdoname madre for all those years

She rides the bus across town

borrows money to lend

for eastside bailbondsman

forgoing gas and electricity

Perdoname madre for taking too much

She claims her son from drug custody

She knows the fools that men can be

the resemblance growing more everyday

Perdoname madre for all those years

for taking too much after my father