17th Street

I rememember 17th street Before the tower. My uncles cantina One block over on 18th. I remember being hoisted On top of the bar Singing at the top of my lungs For tio Matias patrons I Remember my reward A small bottle of coke For a job well done. I remember tios hugs and smiles Through his big Grizzly beard. I remember walking back to 17th st. With dad The enchanting smell Of the Mexican restaurants. The smell of Mexican gasoline And how it nauseated me. I remember the weekend crowds With their paper shopping bags But most of all, I remember The painted whores and their Skimpy dresses And the intoxicating scents That seemed to permeate the air Around them. To me they seemed like princesses From a story book. They smiled at me and I smiled back. Once I asked one If she wanted me to sing her a song She asked how much? Dad laughed for some reason And whisked me away. I have always been fond Of 17th street. 29 Palms California. April 17th 2016 What we were