Miguel

She was just so pookie
In a yellow hoodie,
drunk on whiskey and tequila
Perhaps, to this extent, for the first time
Yelling into the phone.

"MMMMiguel, please find my car"
"I'm drunk"
"Its at 4th and bainbridge"
"We didn't get into to the bar and walked home"

"MMMIIIIGGUUELL"
And then turning to me, putting the
Phone, with Miguel's confused gringo voice still
Talking; into her crotch.
Perhaps she liked the vibrations.

"He is the best Mexican I know"
She said aloud, and then imitated Spanish mambo jumbo
Channeling Miguel's broken spirit in whatever way she could.
She explained that even tho he spoke like this,
She could always understand him.

Spanish rang from her vagina,
Which I eyed with passion and heat
But I was in no mood to trump Miguel
And help this girl find her car.

"Push it home"
she yelled completely unaware, that home was
A mile and half away and
That Miguel had not found the car.
And had settled down at a diner.

"Miguel, I have no dollars" she yelled. 
she repeated this over the course of the evening.
"NO DOLLARS", and there might be a ticket.
But she swore, those were the only two problems she had
Otherwise her life was perfect.

She asked her roommate whether we could go
And find her car, as Miguel, her one faith Mexican
was acting unfaithfully lazy.
But her friend responded rhetorically
"Do you know whats on South Street right now"
"Niggers?" the drunk pooger guessed.


 I made a joke about it, for I could not make a criticism
"So do you have a black guy you trust like Miguel?"
It seemed they didn't
"Miguel is the only minority you trust" i asked
I was then informed that white people are now the minority. 

She started dancing, and making out with roommate
But I stood no chance, so i just nodded on the floor.
This racism was just a passing farce.
She called Miguel at 4AM, but he didn't answer