" I went back, to re-live
destruction…
“Felipe!” I yelled, porch light
flicked on, illuminating the yard.
“Came to fight,” I said, “take off
your glasses.”
Bug-eyes glazed
bewildered, then gray slits of lips
snarled, “You motherless dog!”
He withdrew in darkness a moment,
reappeared on porch, serrated saw of his voice
cut the chill dark,
“¡Hijo de su pinche madre!
¡Mátalo! ¡¡Mátalo!!”
First shot framed darkness round me
with a spillway of bright light,
eruption of sound, and second shot roared
a spray of brilliance and the third
gave an expanded halo-flash.
My legs woozed, and then
I buckled to the ground.
(I thought, holy shit, what ever happened
to the old yard-style fight between estranged friends!) "
-The connection i have made from these few stanzas were that it is very true. People now-a-days don't clean handed fight. They have to use some sort of weapon. They have to use a weapon to feel superior. That's very relate able here in Santa Maria, you hardly hear of a clean fight.
"Following morning calls came,
"Following morning calls came,
“Tell us who did it Gato!”
“Our rifles are loaded!”
I said, “Leave it alone. What would you do
if a drunk man came into your yard,
threatened to beat you?”
I wanted peace,"
-What i have to say from this piece is that, I can't relate to that. What i usually see or hear about is people trying to seek revenge. If they lose a fight they get their friends involved or they "rush" the other person. Even if the fight was caused by them, they have to keep going until they win. In my opinion it takes a real man to accept the fact that you win some and lose some.
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