Families walk out there iron doors
laced with hears and veins like little atoms sticking tightly walking en la calle
until they reach la plaza cobblestone
marking bounding the of the streets tile of marvel reflects soft beams
of light shining from the lamp post in the night
The atoms come apart now and walk
around looking for tacos, pambazos, tostadas, buñuelos y atole caliente and
afterward to walk around la plaza under the umbrellas of green lively leaves
from trees with that white pain on their stumps as los devotos march to that
gray stone church crossing their finger across their face and chest rezando as
the families gather around a water fountain to hear la banda tocar una ranchera
and the night goes on until the dove come back and the little children go to
bed
