We be
a bucket of Rio,
two handfuls of mesa,
an open box full of God
between the Sandias
and the volcanoes
our name is mud.
We be
close enough to heaven
and clear enough of sky
for the creator
to mouth-to-mouth us alive.
We make dirty,
the new “immaculate,”
make car washes obsolete.
We be
urban farm hands
for rural app developers,
be the best brewed beans
and microbrew
in a six mesa radius…
in a hundred mañana radius
We be coffee shop crushes
And conversations
We be the crème de la creatives
We powder with pollen
And monsoon foundation for make up
On the rare occasion we make up
Only when the winter white tablecloths the mesa
We be aquifers
of brown gold.
We be the same colored souls
We be an open heart horizon
Transplants, land grants
And colonial survivors
We be
People of the earth
And out of this world
At the same time.
We inherit this pride
This “keep it real” estate of intellectual property
We B-Q-U-E-R-Q-U-E, aye!
We be
sunsets so beautiful
they paint themselves
on the edge of the earth.
We be
where dreams come to live
and retire.
We be
artists making careers
out of thin air.
We be
made up words like #Sunport,
because stars gotta land somewhere?
because the center of the universe
has gotta be somewhere?
because even “the sun”
has a vacation home in New Mexico.
because we be made upwards
not down words
like mountaintop, we be
adobe inside and out.
We might look like
armored vegetarians, but we be
the coolest gatas you’ll ever meet
on the inside.
We be
entrepreneurs and doers.
Somewhere between bright ideas and
“done and done.”
We be
chile by blood and balloon for lungs.
We be
no “I” in team, but two in familia
We be
Full moons and photosynthesis
not a cloud to be found
We be radiant
Worshipping the skies
With hand signs that 505
To remind our unidentified flying cousins
That we out here,
Fighting for our light
We be loco
We be local
We be lobos
singing to the night.
We are your favorite city’s
favorite city.
The heart of the Southwest
leaning just a lil to the left
in New Mexico’s chest.
