Vago

By: Luis Daniel Salgado
My poetry is often about how I recall my past and different occurrences such as growing up Hispanic, living in Houston, being raised by a single mother, sharing life with five siblings, and how these affected who I have become today as a poet and a human.
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My mother used to call me vago because I was
always on the street. And she was right, my feet
were always touching pavement. My eyes always
looking up and down streets. My friends and I used to sit
on A/C units like couches and lay on grass
like beds. My first kiss
was under a light post on the corner
of Coach Lamp Lane and Air Line Road.

I stayed out of trouble until Omar
taught me how easy it was to take
what we wanted: from Snickers to popcorn
to iPods. How easy it was to eat
with no mother or father around.
So we took until
Omar got arrested. Then he got permanently
banned from an electronic store
that I will not mention.

The police told his mom, his mom told my mom,
and my mom told me. This is when I learned
about law, and consequences, and that my hands
had power, and that the world wasn’t mine
for the taking.

Luis Daniel Salgado

Luis Daniel Salgado is a Houston Native who recently came back from earning his Creative Writing MFA from Texas State University. Luis is currently working on his manuscript titled SOL.

Featured image by: J.S.

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