Frisco was born in the back
Of the bus
Frisco grew up with sirens
In his ears
Frisco was the family
Fuck up with a good heart
Frisco walked down the street
With knives hidden
In her hair
Frisco stayed up all
Night with eye sockets
Filled with light
Frisco bore the skin
Of tree branches and
Lashing whips
Frisco was blackboards
That were brown and
Yellow and black and
Blue
Frisco was ancient pots
With built-on grease
Built-on year after
Year, generation after
Generation
Frisco was squeaky
Victorian bones
Soaked in thick soy sauce
Fog
Frisco was your father’s
Foot in your ass
Frisco was nightsticks and
The sign of the cross
Frisco was poets with
Calloused tongues
Talkin’ that Frisco shit
Frisco is ears filled
With wax voices of
That “Don’t call it
Frisco” dumb shit
Hella frisco shit
‘sup blood
Tha’s what’s up
Frisco was dad’s
Janitorial job that
Kept food on the table
And toilet paper in the
Bathroom
Frisco was dreams
On display in
Pawnshop windows
Horns waiting to be
Blown, conga drums waiting
For the beating caress
Frisco was bilingual
Trylingual
Beef
Pork
Lengua
Menudo
Fish heads
Pig ears
Pig nose
guts
Yesterday’s leftovers
Tomorrow’s hunger
Frisco was a black
Radio with static
From a can of beer
Frisco is abuelita
Balancing the world
On her head
Frisco is
Straight F’s
Frisco
Frisco
Frisco
Frisco is an evicted
Poem with
Everything to show
For it
Frisco is burned
Into our arms,
Our flesh, our
Memory
Its sound
Its life
Swims across
Our skin
Skin
To
Skin
Swirling
On our
Tongue
Call it
Frisco
© 2014 Tony Robles