New Mexico Mercury

Johnny,
did you die the way you wanted to?

Did you want the mystery
to cloud your demise?
Everybody arguing
as to what finally killed you.

It was the pisto.
Nah the method.
The coca.
Or was it the pills the doctor
gave you to kill the phantoms
of chingasos,
la vida loca?

But you wanted to die in the ring.
A knockout punch to break
your neck.
Proof that the only way
to beat your ass
was for someone
to kill you.

La muerte is the referee.
Did you see yourself
laid out on the canvas?
The flashbulbs and cameras
swarming your body
like the flies would
in a few days.

Your teeth pooled
in red spit,
photographed in black and white.
The cover shot
on all the sports magazines.
Your dead face plastered
on them all.

Or did you see yourself
in the cajon
at twenty-one years?
Some vato’s switchblade
or bullet
in your chest
or your throat?

Nah, you wanted to die like a cholo.
A homeboy’s funeral.
A mile of lowriders
following your corpse
on way to the camposanto.

Or did you see yourself
an old man.
The grandkids at your feet
hooked on all your stories.
Glory and championships,
legends about all the guys
you knocked out.
The title belts, the trophies,
gold gloves.
Would they want to be you?
Would you allow them
to dream such dreams?
And would you tell them
the truth
about everything?

Johnny,
how many of us
barrio children
pretended to be you
during our best schoolyard
fistfights? Imagined
the playground
Ceasar’s Palace,
the crowd of kids
celebrities at ringside.
We knew we’d be famous someday
if only we’d never lose.
But we will always lose.
We knew it back then.
And in the end you lost too, vato.

All you proved
by beating Danny Romero
is that burqueños love
beating the shit out of each other
almost as much as we love
beating the shit out of ourselves.
Your death proved that.

Yet you were still our hero
we still drank beers
in the parking lot
at your memorial.
And tonight we celebrate
you in a bar
in your city.
Honor you like a santo
with devil horns holding
up the halo.

As we move on to tequila,
we wonder what finally
did you in.

What you could’ve done
if only you had more time.
Wonder what you’re up to
on the other side,
‘cause you always
left us wondering, bro.
Always wondering.