There he stood,
All proud and honored and bought
Barato, yet orgulloso, to be the center of attention for someone else`s intention.
In a room filled with us, people
He speaks star-crossed
Selected and chosen and fronted,
By the white rancher, just as it happens, every two years, for years, and years and years.
His job is to deliver us…to hear some broken, spoken, Spanish, lies
Glorifying him to mythological status to a room full of dumbfounded Mexicans,
Gloatingly, proud, to be the one
To tell us why we should vote white and not Mexican
To remind us, and blatantly, matter-of-factly, point out
The obvious difference in intellectual superiority and of our inferior oratory limits
To preach to us…not to think!
Not even for a minute!
That,
Even though we have lived here for generations, after generations, upon generations,
And that we have forever out-numbered
The meester and his sons
That still, our over whelming majority’s` welfare, does not matter.
Our vote
Should continue to be devoted and deposited for his master and his masters` sons,
Just as it has always been in the past,
Just as it should be now,
Just as it should always be in the future
All this
His pre-programmed, rewound, whittled short and small and dull
Good little Mexican body told us,
Because his rancher owner
Keeps cutting
Him down to small pocket size
So that he has to meekly peer up
To his patron, with his submissive and accepting “frito bandito” grin
Readily available for his jefe`s, occasional good boy pat on the head
2
Causing the vendido
To forever faithfully, experience, such intense gratification
That he uncontrollably squirts
Piss
Sprinkling the inside of his pant with yellow wet obedience
Showing us all
That
All he really is, is a sin verguensa
Guerkito millon!
And, so…
There he stood, all wet in his pants,
As he spoke in almost very good English
Eulogizing
His beloved rancher,
Convincingly, dramatically, pleadingly
Imploring upon us
That the best man to govern us
Once again
As it has always been
Is the white rancher
And, that…
Now, is no real reason to change our poll tax voting ways
Just because
There is at last! And way over due
A Mexican
Running for election
After all, when it comes to telling us what to do…who knows best?
And remember!
Who is the one, who gives us the jobs!
Pennies a day!
So That at least we can buy rice and beans and corn for tortillas
So that we can minimally nourish our mal educated bodies.
He!
My amo! That’s who!
He knows… what our mind`s borders should be
Like his father knew,
Like his grandfather knew before him
The right choice for us is historical! 3
It`s blindly and unquestionably and unconditionally following our rancher
Friend
It`s not, that… Enrique Martinez!
My people!
Mi gente!
I deliver you to him!
I bring you to my amigo,
Yours and mine
Thinker.
See him,
See how grand he is,
How strong he is
As he effortlessly supports me on his lap
With his hand all the way up my ass and to my lips,
I`m his puppet, and he my puppeteer!
How great!
How good it makes me feel!
He has all my respect, all my admiration, and all my good little boy devotion.
Come,
Come, all you seemingly citizens,
Follow me,
Follow me to follow him
I repeat to you!
Do not vote!
For
Enrique…
The one who only sells tacos for a living
How can you began to compare
A taco bender, beaner, Mexican food seller
To a big establishment rancher
See my sold-out logic!
Weigh the value of the two
Here… manhandling me, we have the great one, who pulls my strings
And there… there… you have… ese…ese… Enrique who has no strings…
Lets go with my choice people
The one
Whom, I hope for, and pray for, and beg to, if I have to
4
To permit me to visit the inside of his big two story ranch house
That lofty symbol of superiority
I have always desired
The big white no Mexicans allowed…but yes… dogs are allowed house
The house I have always unattainably wondered about from the distant road
The house I can`t get into without you
Because the big iron gate is locked to me
And a sign that tells
“No Tres Pasen”
Trespassers will be shot on sight!
I want too much!
To be asked in
To be invited to sit…!
At their big fancy dinning room table,
To eat what they eat
Like I see the big valley Barkleys eat on T.V.
With servants and peons, stooped shoulders, incline downward heads
Making no eye contact
Sheepishly,
Placing before them, soup bowls and salad bowls and gold trimmed china plates
Spilling over with many kinds of vegetables, potatoes and other exotic foods
But no rice and beans!
Maybe some Tostitos chips, to dip in the avocado wacamole, without frijole!
And I want to drink from their crystal wine glass, red wine and white and blush wine, the rich man`s kool-aide
And after supper
I want
To go into their smoking room and smoke a big imported cigar
Hand rolled by Cubans.
I want,
To cock my head back, after a deep savory inhale…and puff out
Silver smoke rings
And see them float up, up, up to the high vaulted ceiling
But never reaching it because it’s too far up there
Por favor my people, indulge me,
I`ve done everything, to gain their exclusive to me, favor
Everything they have told me to do
I have done it!
I need you!
I need you to do for me, 5
So that I may continue to do for him!
I have,
Even switched political party
I am now their token Mexican Republican
But only I for now
Not you, not yet
They only take in a few good ones of us, a little at a time
You stay dumbocrats
Because if you switch party too
My patrones, who have me by the cojones
Will go off and start a whole new political party exclusively all their own,
Heavens forbid!
Remember, when they used to all be Brisco Democrats?
Than we started buying the poll tax and becoming voting Democrats
Just like them,
Well, not exactly like them… kind of like them…
And we decided, we should vote for Jose Angel
And we did… and Jose Angel was elected
Remember what happened?
They gave up being Democrats
They turned Republicans
They said it was better to be a Republican
Than to vote for Jose the Democrat
They will certainly be mad at me then
Because I didn`t do my job right
I
Didn`t make you follow me, to follow them
They`ll spank me,
Punish me,
They`ll leave me down here with you
And I`ll never get invited to the big house
Tell me mi gente, what is worst?
To have at least one of us
Tio Tome
At their disposal to do with you as they please!
Or
Have a comun y corriente greaser, political wanna-be
Break the chain
Of patronismo y chingismo
No Señor!
Let us not be the ones to tear the link to servitude!
Do not look for a bright and promising future,
Do not yearn for voting Emancipation!
Lets us keep my big white rancher
In his high place
So that he may continue to keep us
Boot on throat
Below him….Place.
Rudy H. Garcia 2003
