The first time I use spray paint, I’m with Jimmy / Henderson and Rolando Rodriguez. The store / 
Clerk senses that our fingers are ready to pull / A trigger and picks out the colors.  We carry / 
Our ammunition in our backpacks. Jimmy / Wants the first hit to be for revenge: the corner / 
Market that fired his brother for not showing / Up to work. Six times. Rolando wants us / To mark spots where the girls will see them.

To leave his gang of Aztecs, / He has to get jumped out, / Walk down lines of street soldiers: / Punches, fists, departing gifts / For this Latin King.

They call it the shoreline, / el abismo que tiene poder / too wide to hear plain truth / so replace your split frame / con un coquí cuya voz grita /