P is for Puente

Death came to the door today

Just another punk in the neighborhood

Puto slinging shit nobody wants to buy

All white tooth grin like a cop

Ready to bust your fucking head, boy

But every time he knocks

You’re out

The boys boosted a car

And nothing has ever sounded so good

As a burger and a shake

Close enough to walk

But fuck it

The car’s faster, safer

And word is

That skeleton pendejo’s been rolling with

The other boys

Just another punk that doesn’t belong

Always hanging where he isn’t welcome

Going to have to do something about that

Going to have to see him some day

Stare down that grin as cruel

As a car’s grill on a hot summer day

As a cop’s mirrored shades

As a fence too high, an alley too dark

Going to have to step to his neighborhood

Knock on his door

Tell him, Here I am

What the fuck do you want?


2 responses to “P is for Puente

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