Paisano

Dear Cesar,
Pronounced Se•Zah•r

I still think about you every so often.

The child pulled from school in Oaxaca,
To work on the streets of Mexico City
Barefoot

The teenager
Eating hongos from medicene men
Dancing under the moon
Like Mayans

Your scratchy little mustache
And laborer hands

The night you cried
to Jorge Negrete
And dissapeared forever
Into dawn

Did you have a good life?
I hope so.
I can see you.
Someone saw you.