Call me Coyote, amigo
I’ve been wandering since sunrise
Eating whatever the city drops at my feet; popcorn outside of Regal
I’m not like the rest of my kind; I use google maps and spotify
The muse arrives at the cafe twenty minutes late with a toga
Slipping off one shoulder from the morning wind
Holding a half finished brown sugar boba
She says art is sacred and sighs but my concept intrigues her
“I will not descend from Olympus for free!” she declares
Tapping her straw against the cup like a scepter, toga wrinkled
“Inspiration costs extra, paidi” (because she must prepare)
“Maybe a dinner at Chubby Cattle, or at least upgrade me to oat milk”
Midday, the door dings and I step outside, Huichaana clears her throat behind me
“Mijo, esa chamarra no te ayuda”
“¡Ponte un suéter, y estás muy flaco!” (Tia, just let me be...)
“Ne Ruzuhuaa rizi’ laabe ca!”1
As I cross the I-110 into Culver City,
I run into the bobcat, my friend who has made peace with the leash
She tells me, “Isn’t it a pity—”
“That you’re a coyote with a shiny collar but prowl the metro?”
She flicks her tail and walks away
As I ask what she means too quickly and eagerly
She’ll respond one of these days, I pray
Because I know she hears me
I ride on the E line’s back to Downtown and sit across from the U.S. Bank Tower
Its glass ribs catching the shadows of analysts going to 71Above
A coyote, empty wallet, who wants to take a bite of the concrete crack’s flower
The wind from the entrance to the Central Library howls like my pack
Encelia sprouts between the sidewalk seams, never hesitating
Yellow faces tilted as if to ask “why are you here?”
I think about how I’ve been self-domesticating
As the city trims parts of me like it trims its wildflowers
I text the bobcat ‘cause I can’t just let her be
“I know I’m wrong for coming on too strong”
“Girl, that’s on me!”
and delete the messages before they ever send
Me and Mr. ladxidóʼ2-beat
His rhythm louder than my thoughts
He asks, “Cali Chiu,3 Coyote? (You cheat...)”
And I pretend I know the answer
I crash a quince saa4 in a backyard that smells rico
Huichaana is there too, pressing pastel into my hands
The DJ shouts “y hora cumbia sampuesana, chicos!”
And I slip out onto the bus before anyone notices
It takes me all the way to Koreatown
I pass a thousand and one “K-BBQ” signs and matcha cafes
Where even the neon signs ask me with a frown
“이봐 코요테, 그 목걸이를 보니 넌 누구 편이야?”
By the time I reach the Lorenzo on the edge of downtown
The night has already folded itself over the skyline
I climb up to the roof, letting the wind pin my wildness down
The city has taken a page from Mr. ladxidóʼ-beat, asking me “Cali Chiu, Coyote?”
1. Isthmus Zapotec for “And stop buying her that!”
2. Isthmus Zapotec for heart
3. Valley Zapotec for “Where are you going?”
4. Isthmus Zapotec for party
Self Domesticating (English)
Call me Coyote, friend
I’ve been wandering since sunrise
Eating whatever the city drops at my feet like popcorn outside of Regal
I’m not like the rest of my kind; I use google maps and spotify
The muse arrives at the cafe twenty minutes late with a toga
Slipping off one shoulder
Holding a half finished brown sugar boba
She says art is sacred and sighs but my “concept intrigues her”
“I will not descend from Olympus for free!” she declares
Tapping her straw against the cup like a scepter, toga wrinkled
“Inspiration costs extra, kid1” (because she must prepare)
“Maybe a dinner at Chubby Cattle, or at least upgrade me to oat milk”
The door dings and I step outside, Huichaana clears her throat behind me
“Son, that jacket doesn’t help you2”
“Put on a sweater, and you’re too skinny!”2(Auntie, just let me be...)
“And stop buying her that!”3
As I cross the I-110 into Culver City,
I run into the bobcat, my friend
She tells me, “Isn’t it a pity—”
“That you’re a coyote with a shiny collar but prowl the metro?”
I ride on the E line’s back to Downtown and sit across from the U.S. Bank Tower
Its glass ribs catching the shadows of analysts going to 71Above
A coyote, empty wallet, who wants to take a bite of the concrete crack’s flower
The wind from the entrance to the Central Library howls like my pack
Encelia sprouts between the sidewalk seams, never hesitating
Yellow faces tilted as if to ask “why are you here?”
I think about how I’ve been self-domesticating
As the city trims parts of me like it does to its wildflowers
I text the bobcat ‘cause I can’t just let her be
“I know I’m wrong for coming on too strong”
“Girl, that’s on me!”
And delete the messages before they ever send
Me and Mr. heart3-beat
His rhythm louder than my thoughts
He asks, “Where are you going,4 Coyote? (You cheat...)”
And I pretend I know the answer
I crash a sweet 152 party in a backyard that smells delicious
Huichaana is there too, pressing cake2 into my hands
The DJ shouts “and now cumbia sampuesana, guys!2”
And I slip out onto the bus before anyone notices
It takes me all the way to Koreatown
I pass by a thousand and one “K-BBQ” signs and matcha cafes
Where even the neon signs ask me with a frown
“Hey Coyote, with that collar, whose side are you on?5”
By the time I reach the Lorenzo on the edge of downtown
The night has already folded itself over the skyline
I climb up to the roof, letting the wind comb through my fur
The city has taken a page from Mr. heart-beat3, asking me “Cali Chu, Coyote?”4
1. Greek
2. Spanish
3. Isthmus Zapotec
4. Valley Zapotec
5. Korean