Alan Charazo
Oscar De La Hoya vs. Felix Trinidad, 1999
I
She sits across from me at a high-top
table on a restaurant’s deck above a river
slipping past us, past Lawrence,
Massachusetts, as we talk about
Chicago, California, uprooted
things, both of us foreign
on this eastern coast.
Her hands are the shade
of soil
overturned, of what it must look like
inside us—her five
fingers outlined against the snow-
white table cloth as we search
for comfort in each other’s dark hair.
But don’t find it.
But find collision
mid-intersection
of what it means to be this
or that.
Like anytime somebody asks
Where you from?
because we are not
all the same, not the same at all.
II
When I was in middle school
and my muscles were flimsy
as a girl’s wrist, my dad took me
to watch the big fight
at his friend’s house—the only
Puerto Ricans in Santa Clara we knew,
where they served us tostones
instead of tortillas.
III
We didn’t love De La Hoya
like we did Chávez or Vargas
but still, he was ours, like a car
in your driveway you don’t claim
until you need it to get somewhere fast.
IV
The last superfight of the 20th Century
scripted like Hollywood:
De La Hoya is dominating the early part of the fight…
outboxing Trinidad with ease…
De La Hoya, on the advice of his corner, thinks
he has an insurmountable lead…
In the end, though most felt De La Hoya won,
Trinidad’s impressive footwork and rib punches…
V
Twelve rounds are hardest
when trying to fix
something broken with jabs.
Still, we hit.
VI
Circle correct answer:
a) Mexican
b) American
c) Mexican-American
d) Chicano
e) Latino
f) Latin
g) Hispanic
h) Spanish
i) Other
VII
Is it a stereotype for a group of us to drink Coronas in public?
Last night we split eighteen beers in Oakland,
each bottle the image of a boxer, a promotion
by the beer company. In the parking lot we sparred
about the all-time greatest.
VIII
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized our differences.
IX
I never saw the girl again.
Even when I visited Chicago,
in Humboldt Park, underneath
her island’s flag. At that point
I’d never actually been
to Puerto Rico. I wondered
how many were born
in Illinois, and that’s the closest
they’d ever get to home.
X
“Despite all the ________________ and all the potential
________________, the rematch never happened.”
I
She sits across from me at a high-top
table on a restaurant’s deck above a river
slipping past us, past Lawrence,
Massachusetts, as we talk about
Chicago, California, uprooted
things, both of us foreign
on this eastern coast.
Her hands are the shade
of soil
overturned, of what it must look like
inside us—her five
fingers outlined against the snow-
white table cloth as we search
for comfort in each other’s dark hair.
But don’t find it.
But find collision
mid-intersection
of what it means to be this
or that.
Like anytime somebody asks
Where you from?
because we are not
all the same, not the same at all.
II
When I was in middle school
and my muscles were flimsy
as a girl’s wrist, my dad took me
to watch the big fight
at his friend’s house—the only
Puerto Ricans in Santa Clara we knew,
where they served us tostones
instead of tortillas.
III
We didn’t love De La Hoya
like we did Chávez or Vargas
but still, he was ours, like a car
in your driveway you don’t claim
until you need it to get somewhere fast.
IV
The last superfight of the 20th Century
scripted like Hollywood:
De La Hoya is dominating the early part of the fight…
outboxing Trinidad with ease…
De La Hoya, on the advice of his corner, thinks
he has an insurmountable lead…
In the end, though most felt De La Hoya won,
Trinidad’s impressive footwork and rib punches…
V
Twelve rounds are hardest
when trying to fix
something broken with jabs.
Still, we hit.
VI
Circle correct answer:
a) Mexican
b) American
c) Mexican-American
d) Chicano
e) Latino
f) Latin
g) Hispanic
h) Spanish
i) Other
VII
Is it a stereotype for a group of us to drink Coronas in public?
Last night we split eighteen beers in Oakland,
each bottle the image of a boxer, a promotion
by the beer company. In the parking lot we sparred
about the all-time greatest.
VIII
It wasn’t until I was older that I realized our differences.
IX
I never saw the girl again.
Even when I visited Chicago,
in Humboldt Park, underneath
her island’s flag. At that point
I’d never actually been
to Puerto Rico. I wondered
how many were born
in Illinois, and that’s the closest
they’d ever get to home.
X
“Despite all the ________________ and all the potential
________________, the rematch never happened.”
controversy cash support joy blood riots
XI
Never ask a Puerto Rican if they are illegal.
That’s a stupid question.
Never ask a Mexican if they are legal.
That’s a rude question.
XII
Some days we are flowers masquerading as shotguns.
Some days we are shotguns masquerading as flowers.
Some days we are
Never ask a Puerto Rican if they are illegal.
That’s a stupid question.
Never ask a Mexican if they are legal.
That’s a rude question.
XII
Some days we are flowers masquerading as shotguns.
Some days we are shotguns masquerading as flowers.
Some days we are
Alan Chazaro is a public high school teacher pursuing his MFA in Writing at the University of San Francisco. His poems have appeared in Huizache, The Cortland Review, Borderlands, Iron Horse Review, Juked, decomP, Hotel Amerika, and others. He is the Lawrence Ferlinghetti Fellow at USF and a graduate of June Jordan's Poetry for the People program at UC Berkeley. Most recently, his work was selected by the 2017 Pulitzer Prize winner, Tyehimba Jess, for an AWP Intro Journals Award. A Bay Area native, you can usually spot him in some Oakland A's gear.