We Draft Work Songs for This City

This poem was performed at San Diego Mayor Todd Gloria’s State of The City Address at the San Diego Civic Theatre on Jan. 11, 2023.

whenever we stretch grammars of worry past the Pacific whenever another blackout gifts us much needed stillness whenever the surrender of this quiet is typhoon enough we draft work songs for this city mighty we of rough draft futures mighty we in river-mouth of rush hour traffic we of protest chant & scrapyard syntax we draft on the corner of Black Mountain & Mira Mesa here on a sidewalk of torn shoelaces & lost grocery lists we draft blueprints for survival we survive on the smell of beef broth the smell of basil of turmeric of cilantro of carne asada of freshly cooked rice of steamed bok choy of freshwater fish of deep-fried rice paper we work song at this bus stop for students we work song at this bus stop for tech workers this bus stop for lolas y abuelitas we work song in tin drum glottal syllables of distant motherlands we draft litanies at every streetlight altar we draft verse on napkins & reused plastic grocery bags wherever there are elders playing chess & waxing geographic outside the donut shop whenever much needed stillness promises a new hour whenever the Pacific knows to rupture the shoreline whenever typhoon is fractal hum in chest we draft work songs for this city we raw material literatures we distillation of afterdreams we swapmeet philosophers we draft work songs on the corner of Genesee & Clairemont Mesa we draft of gutters scattered with pink boba straws & dried palm leaves we draft for mothers & children hustling bouquets of carnations from the bicycle lane we draft for parolees in orange vests selling local tribunes from the center island we draft on Murray Ridge where a family sells roses & chocolate from a white bucket whenever the small hour calls collect whenever ruptures in the line set us free whenever hum in chest arrives as ghost in throat we draft work songs we whose hands wash sky we who grow gardens & gardens against worry we whose mighty ache remakes history we draft work songs here in the alley off University behind 49th we draft of a perfectly reusable red plastic slide of a car full of birthday balloons of a small hill of middle grade paperbacks a gold purse full of fresh broccoli & rubber gloves a black tote bag stuffed with wet lettuce

& white surgical masks we draft at the backyard family parties & block-wide barbecues we work song where it smells of fresh tires & flour tortillas where dried lemon rinds stick to pavement work song of cleaned chicken bone wrapped in foil work song of rainsoaked boxsprings work song for the infamous hot cheetos burrito brushfire fabulous work song work song on the graveyard shift survivor song song of the parking lot nail salon work song of the underfuture heavenly pho outside between two buildings work song we draft as patrol cars cram the alley we draft as protest medics cram the alley we draft as Muslim cabbies double-park their Priuses outside the mosque outside the taqueria work song of a child chasing mosquitos with a hammer wherever a community of uncles gathers in the shared parking lot of the banh mi shop & Somali restaurant wherever we feel that lived intensity of interior traffic here sings the lettuce-picker here sings the strawberry-picker here sings the bellhop the postal worker the custodian the hotel maid groundskeeper landscaper gardener construction worker nurse teacher waiter dishwasher bus driver grocer labor organizer mechanic therapist here sings the nanny here sings the refugee here sings the Native here sings the migrant O, what work! O, what song! O, what city! when our utterance is archive when there is historical reckoning when we demand nothing short of collective joy & here we are on Native land we draft work songs for this city we draft work songs for this city we draft work songs for this city