I Love El Paso: A Bumper Sticker Rant
by Mauricio Rodriguez
I can't stand this city:
with its spring winds dusting
everything the color of decay,
the incessant howl of souls whistling
through the shark fins of mescals; the hacking smog
veiling the corpses of homes under-looking
mansions perched above the cancerous shawl.
Fuck this city: with its poor,
downtrodden and homeless-their palms extended,
holding up the sky.
Fuck the bridge crossers, congesting traffic
with their five-dollar-labor dreams of shifting
class. Struggle with this: we don't give a shit,
so long as our homes get cleaned and meals get served.
Fuck the border and its watchers:
INS (Immigration Negation Sadists),
with their holier-than-thou swaging fingers,
Customs are glorified free trade security guards,
and the Border Patrol-vendidos-who imprison us and themselves.
Fuck the politicos and their propaganda
promoting the incestuous sister cities
tied together by circumstance and bitter rivalry.
Fuck the idea of a brotherhood underlined
with notions of "ni de aqui, y ni de alla," the imaginary
border resurrects itself and finds no homeland.
Fuck the maquila workers whose sweat and blood
evaporate through smoke stacks. Let the steam raise
their dreams as the company store credits their soul.
Fuck the cops: with their brown on brown hate,
"por eso no avanza la raza," exercising their power
to act like gods with badges and batons.
Fuck the haughty west-siders,
driving Beemer's and Benz's,
thinking they own the road.
Fuck the east-siders in their cookie-cutter homes,
midlevel blue collar jobs, SUV soccer-mom mentalities
and pop-cultured trends.
Fuck the vatos and rucas from the barrio;
pride doesn't come in a tattoo-green
Virgin shrining your chest,
or hands cuffed behind your back.
Fuck UTEP: its bureaucratic inefficiency,
self-avowed campus cops,
gossip-spewing departments and defied directors.
Fuck the arm-chair intellectuals--
literary types-self-aggrandized writers
who ride on the coattails of those who've made it;
quote your own shit and stop fronting.
Fuck the scholars, the fellows and PhD's;
did your thesis feed your family,
did your dissertation get you off?
Fuck the Fronchi's who turn up their noses
at pochos, and hang out all day,
congest UTEP's union with their, "oh-sea's."
Fuck the jocks who expect favoritism;
hit on chicks during your own time
and keep your dicks restrained in my class.
Fuck the students who sit idly,
crowd halls and chatter like chicharras,
your time here is limited,
your presence a matter of dollar signs.
But No,
Fuck me.
Fuck Mauricio: with my faggy eyes and cocky
demeanor. I'm a half-rate writer, even on my best
days, a word-bully and unoriginal cynic.
Fuck Mauri: the prodigal son
and relative failure; heartbreaker to some
and unmissed lover to others
