El Paso
By Ray González
Has all the metaphors built into it.
—Tim Z. Hernandez, “This City”
The collared lizards cry at night
because El Paso is too hot
for their detachable blue tails.
The desert turtle stops and
waits as a cartel truck drives by
and dark houses illuminate
what is hidden there.
Drink to Pancho Villa and
any other lobo who swears
the Rio Grande is poisonous.
It lets you cross twice.
The first time is to survive.
The second traps you in
the rows of torn adobe huts
where the giant rattlesnake
wraps itself around your
romantic and burro heart.
Even the old stone house
way up on Scenic Drive
is torn down, people claiming
it was haunted by lobos wanting
to kidnap you again.
Do not give up on El Paso.
It will be there for a while as
its poets totter in front of
the camera and smile.
