parking lot full of gray sky on highway 152, watsonville at the colima real II
from the south-facing window of the remodeled pink house the woman looks out,
washing dishes behind the long counter at the colima real II,
families renovate of a sunday morning in sweatpants and a spiffy chaparrito
with a handsome tall woman dressed for church at the colima real II,
anybody’s tattoos of youth turned to cardboard flaps get jukeboxed by cebollitas
at the colima real II, fresh tortillas and menudo shining like eyes, chico or regular
as the baby learns to yell “yeah!” loud as he can again at the colima real II,