At bedtime, the coyote howled at the moon,

plaintive-sounding

The primos tell scary stories about him

but can something bad happen every night because of coyote?

Actually, he sounds sad

Maybe it’s the Música Romántica de México playing on the radio that lulled me to sleep

The neighbor’s gallo crowed at 4am,

¡Quiquiriquí!,

todo está bien

I flip the pillow to the cool side and snuggle back to sleep,

knowing I have another two hours in bed

The smell of coffee and huevitos, the sound of the news on TV

The grackle in the esperanza tree whistles impatiently

Levante, ponte a trabajar

He’s not mean, just insistent

Serenading us as we play a quick game of dodge ball

waiting for the bus to take us to school

Celebrating a new day and the coolness of a South Texas morning

Once I got to Austin

I crossed an invisible line

just north of San Antonio

Those colorful wrought iron bars on windows and doors

that looked like the ones on my street

signaled a bad neighborhood

No pink, blue, or orange paint

a discreet aesthetic governed by deed restrictions and HOAs

I walked across campus, bumping into Greek letters that didn’t know I was there

Even the animals knew this

I no longer heard the coyote howl

or the gallo crow.

And the grackle, shitting on us from the oak tree, screeched

Get your ass to work