Qué pasó, what happened?

Memories of the blue Chevy Nova, the red Chevy

Impala, tripping on a ride to Mickey D's.

Drive defensively as you would live life.

Hector Lavoe sitting in the back singing "Abuelia"

While the Orchestra Zodiac plans "Pantíon de Amor,"

Grave of love.

On the six train to downtown, wide eyed to the job with

Many smiles and waves and friends.

Love lost not because you were a dishwasher, but because of you.

-- Oh, the lessons learned.

Hit back if hit, don't come home crying or get hit again.

If disrespected, open up the Nile on a motherfucker's

forehead and let the blood cascade freely over the

cliff of his face.

The way you did to your wife's brother so that my

Grandmother could stand there pointing and saying

Acusingly, "tu ves esto Manuelito, esto fues Papa,

tú padre!"

As if it were my fault or choice that you were my father.

-- Oh, I thought I didn't learn much, but you taught weel.

I learned no history, no pride, no self worth.

"The Young Lords are terrorists."

I learned, even though you didn't know I was there, listening,

I was eager to learn.

"Oscar, if you want to be a big fat zero, follow in your

brother's footsteps, go ahead, become a nothing."

I learned about alcohol, violence, abuse.

No matter how good a woman treats you, break her down.

Instead of your physical brutality, my choice of weapon

Was verbal and emotional abuse.

Strike and strike hard.

My mother laying on the floor, holding herself, showing

Me her bruised and battered breast of life.

"Esto fue tú padre." I remeber my grandmother saying

something like that later.

-- The more I did not want ot be like you, the more I

became you.

Anger, confusion, frustration.

You taught me all I knew, yet I could not talk to you.

I learned no social skills or how to deal with the over-

Welming normalcy of everyday life. Social outcast.

Teachers, family, friends -- "What are we going to do with him?

"I'll tell you what doc, I don't know exactly what I'm

going through, but if you haven''t been through it,

then you can't tell me jack shit." End of session.

-- Streets, police, locked up.

Boxing and the Corps made more of a man of me and

I gained respect I wasn't sure I wanted from you.

Streets, police, locked up.

As quick as you gave me life I would just as soon take yours.

You made me from gunpowder and metal and cross-connected wires.

The wick lit, you walked away.

Finall, one night, implosion.

I woke the next morning losing all I had along with the stealth of night.

I lost me.

I looked in the mirror and id not like what I saw.

I saw a tear stricken you.

Here we go again.

A nothing calling someone else a nothing means nothing.

This time I was going to do it my way.

Whatever happens, I have only me to blame.

I will not pass down to my son the lessons your father taught you.

Everything I am today I owe to you, yet I owe you

Nothing.

A son's love for his father lost.

But love exists such as a man has love for his fellow man.