The all-night taco stand simmers in the

midnight heat. The unsaid social group meets again

for yet another round of comradeship and slurred

serenades to themselves. Before stepping out the

door to the Street of Oblivion, they order one

more taco de sesos for the road, in a last-ditch

attempt to access higher levels of intelligence.

Local youths, at the starting point of the well-worn

road to street life and “infamy” swagger inventively

across the street. Shoulders swinging

like pendulums as feet trod the city earth.

Fingers that contorted into abstract hieroglyphics

that foul the air take on a demure innocence

when the law rolls around. But it’s too late–

the subtitles were already read.