It was the summer of ’94 and
I remember it because it was the
year the U.S. was hosting the World Cup –
and up in Palo Alto the Brazilians
were dominating the games to the
rhythm of their metal drums & djimbés
and we could feel the energy coming
down from Stanford to where I lived in San
Jose, in the barrio and farther south
into Los Gatos – they were dancing &
celebrating : the pulse of the salsa
and the hard hard rhythms,
and the futbol.
And I would stay up all night in those days
& stand bare-chested on my balcony
overlooking El Salvador’s house and
he, waking up early, drinking canned beer,
watering his plants & shouting up to me,
Did you see the game last night? Beautiful!
In Los Gatos – all night, man! – the women
and Brazilians wearing the yellow and
the green – the colors of true champions
