I am undone in negro nights and noir skin, and brown skin,
and being the only gay name on your tongue,
but we are not happy or content or colorful,
we sing a song of midnight blood red and dirty brown,
…“gringo,” because that’s what echoed from my skin,
when the miles separated our hearts in piles and I drank whiskey and fell in the street clinging to your name and tears and ironies that shouldn’t be ironies until 20 years from now.
I lost myself in handcuffs …
perhaps it was being brown,
and loving you in words that were too domestic for your liking,
too foreign to your friends who only knew the bad words in Spanish.
or the word: “gringo,” because that’s what echoed from my skin,
when the miles separated our hearts in piles and I drank …