Mars in Aries — Split Lip Magazine

I’m the Tejano riding your horse without a saddle. I’m hanging
onto horsehair. I’m the flame on your lasso. My horse kicks me
up at the moon & I let go. I fall back to Earth. All scorched.

Cut me up like a jackrabbit. Let me land on piles of questions
—why was I born raging with the god of beginnings? It hurts.
My fear makes me do bad things. I set fire to bridges because

suddenly I can leap between cliffs with my hind legs. Call me
the leaping Tejano. I swing from tire swings time & time again
until I’m at a beach in Corpus Christi. Find me there: spreading

the towel, taking off my shirt, slapping SP40 all over. I’m lying
on my stomach, my back against the sun. Here’s a picture of me
soaking life into my browning skin. Picture the dusk: the red sky

darkens & then stars everywhere. Come orbit me on the hood
of this ’97 Camaro. It’s red like that star up there. See? See?

Find me at the bar hitting the jukebox, singing hit me
with your best shot. I’m singing in your car & sinking fast

asleep like a submarine. I’m on fire or you’re the flame
burning through my head. I’m the Tejano

riding a pony named War. We’ll start
galloping away. Toward the ocean.

You’ll find us disappearing into your sun,
your moon, & your rising. Or you can drive me

back to the playground. Get a matchbook.
Make me your lucky strike.

Sebastián H. Páramo (@sebastianparamo) is a CantoMundo Fellow and a former Dobie Paisano Fellow. His work has appeared in or is forthcoming in The Los Angeles Review, Southern Indiana Review, The Cortland Review, Bennington Review, and elsewhere. He is the founding editor of The Boiler and Poetry Editor for Deep Vellum. He is a Visiting Assistant Professor of English at Austin College in Sherman, Texas.