Montrose and Ashland
Chicago, 2025
White van. Blue truck. SUV. SUV. SUV. Black van. White truck. Blue van. No luck. The fuck? So many motorists. Am I looking for? Federal terrorists. Jackboot brownshirts. Facemask assholes. Tough guys. Strongmen. Real men! (Vatos?) Vamos! Black and brown, black and brown. White faces. Which races? Mercedes. Range Rover. None of these is ICE. BMW. SUV. Black Lincoln. Limousine. Full tint. Can’t see. Vice squad. Oh god. Can you tell? Plates! MP. FP. DL. LY. Livery. Dealer. Fleet. Municipal. “POLICE” on the bulletproof, no warrant, no proof. Zero trash on the dash. No rosary, no dice on the rearview. No city sticker. Except when there is. No ID, except the big dumb faces of angry small men. Two by two. Bovino’s animals. Vans! Amazon. Sprinter. Plumber. Repairman. Vans! Latinos in vans, latinos in vans. Goddamn latinos in the front seat, latinos in the back. So many latinos in the fleet. Tío Tomás ass MF. Orange whistle, dog whistle. Signal chat. Fist bumps. Waves. Contractors. Lawncare. Waves and waves. HVAC. Big pack. Jesus fuck. Overcome. Overcame. Overstayed. Who’s to blame? Watch out. Neighbor. Hood. Look!
Latino También
Traffic stop or public
urination. Quick citation, no
overnight hold, no arrest for myself,
not myself personally, no.
And it’s a privilege, that—
the mild inconvenience.
One I enjoy as a white
male albeit
Sad Little Song For Latin America And The Strongmen Who Long For Dominion
Oil derricks are such stupid,
lonely things.
I wish all stupid things
such loneliness.
My Father Wore Gold and Stank of Miller at Mass, Shackles He Refused to Quit in Holy Recalcitrance—The Drinking—Until My Mother Finally Left His Ass
When I start to rock jewelry around the house
—not just to perform—
my wife says I look like the Jersey Shore, and I say, hey don’t knock New Jersey
but it was never about the Paraguayan gold, straight from Luque,
it’s always been about the nights I can’t remember and how the drinking takes hold
how it seeps under the skin, that sour scent licking the pews at St. Mary’s
So when my wife asks me to re-
move my chains?
I do.
About the author: Diego Báez is a poet, educator, and abolitionist. He is the author of Yaguareté White (Univ. Arizona), named Best New Poetry Collection by the Chicago Reader (2024). He lives in Rogers Park and co-ordinates Blue Jay Poetry Cafe, a summer reading series at Loyola Beach.
About the illustrator: Lu Harper is a graphic designer, multimedia artist, and musician based in Bloomington, Indiana. Their creative practice is deeply rooted in my experiences as a queer, non-binary, AFAB person navigating life in the Midwest. Their practice combines both digital and analog techniques, crafted to both engage and educate viewers on social, cultural, and political issues through beauty, shock value, or both.
