HAVE YOU SEEN THE LITTLE PIGGIES, CRAWLING IN THE DIRT

By Juan Montoya

...Under the lights, luring the barrio boys...

They are there, where the blue-collar workers go,

The carpenters, mechanics, those who toil with their hands

All gravitate toward congales en la Catorce, La Marketa, to quaff a few...

Or more

Like in Carl's Chicago, the barrio boys are lured by the ladies,

Painted ladies, modern-day Circes, hanging around neon-lighted doors

giving them the "c'mon bato" look
Humming their siren song
Popping their gum

And like Ulysses' sailors, the shrimpers and the batos bite

and reeled inside, are fleeced and cleaned of their months' work

to exit, pennyless and drunk, filled with illusions

of rounded breasts, a flash of chocolate thighs, a furtive look...

(At a nearby table, the new girls giggle

as a sharp faced cantinera rifles through the old man's pocket as he sleeps)

Then, hog-tied and pig-drunk

they catch a ride back to the boat (or to Southmost)

Head to Ithaca again

to toil, slave o'er the drink, o en el jale

And months from now, again, they'll crawl the pubs

congales, bars,

enticed by cheap perfume, a brassy band, and neon lights

to drink, and dream and then...crudos in the sty again