Wetback
When they called me wetback I felt Latino for the first time in years. It amazing how one racial
slur helped clear. My scattered desk of labels.
When I got back in town I cut my hair short. Short like every other kid with the last name
Romero. Short like my great aunt’s temper when a tourist complimented her hair, saying it
looked Indian. Through her lips paralyzed by a stroke she hissed and spat her mucus with all the
hate one can spit mucus. Which is a surprising amount of hate.
He Isn’t specifically stereotypical
My feeling of isolation literal
I’ll only ever be a cultural cut out
Cut out from buttered tortillas and a low wage
Feel like I shoplifted my heritage
Depersonally
No one hates him other than his reflection
Correction
No one hates him as much as his reflection
Indention
In the paragraph. He wrote to remind himself he’s got the characteristics of a
transformed
moses staff
Staph infection
I should lose the inflection
Inlandia: A Literary Journey 
I enjoy reading and hearing your poetry. Keep writing and l would love to hear more. I often think of you, especially when I wear the necklace you picked out for me as a 1 to 2 year old. I am always surprised by how much you’ve matured in your art and now your writing.
Artemesio, hope this is a contact. Would love to know if you could illustrate my Haiku book with ink simple drawings.
Please contact me.