as i drive down albuquerque streets

edges of houses pop out of grey sky

undisguised by barren trees

twenty three shades of brown

stucco painted to look like adobe

we're driving past, past the porches

where strings of red chile

hang there in welcome

how now brown town?

and its good to be here

though when i'm gone

i don't miss you much

i even dogged you, albuquerque

because you are

a hard hearted town

dressed in fake mud

being something you're not

personality split by two sides of the city

uptown and downtown, the heights and the valley

split by businessmen

developing their property

you never had a good image of yourself,

albuquerque

you don't love yourself the way

san francisco loves itself

the way seattle loves itself

the way santa fe loves itself

and i wonder what crime

stained these hills

that made you such a hard hearted town

dressed in brown

ribboned in interstate asphalt

and a poisoned river

i'm fascinated by your sinister side,

albuquerque

and pray you don't claim me

as a blood sacrifice

but when i come back

i see the way the sunset hits the sandias

and remember what it was

that i miss about this town

i see the morning light bright blue

the smell of cedar burning in the air

and remember what i miss

about this town

and when i go to the frontier restaurant

and ask for a green chile burger

they know exactly what it is

and they give it to me

and i remember what i miss

about this town

albuquerque

i love you i hate you

i'll always come back to you

the land of entrapment

a curse or a blessing

i don't know the answer

i just keep returning

 

Copyright Juliette Torrez 1999