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El Camino Real


PUBLISHED: July 13, 2015


The corridor, a New Jersey of the West, its stucco newness.
What king was it that built this highway?

The jornaleros with dusty bucket hats
wait for hire beneath the on-ramps

and blocks fill with retirees from somewhere colder.
Lava gardens now outwait the sun. Chapped garages

are stocked against the sure disaster—
the man a few blocks over with his lettuces,

Southern voice & melanomic skin
saw me walking with my infant son:

He said, hey neighbor, keep in mind
I have a shotgun. You can take my lemons if I offer:

But steal em: bam—I’ll show who’s boss.

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