Los Millones

Very poor

But they call it Los Millones

Houses improved in time

But people’s minds don’t

Garbage everywhere

Many wood houses

Mine was in cement

The wolf couldn’t blow it away

Doña Laura, with her hair rolls

Y la bata…no se la quita

My great-grandmother

Smoking through the day

Eating white rice with her fingers

Arroz con deo

My aunt Juana

Listening to Gardel’s tangos

and Chuito, con su vieja voladora

Some girls went to college

Others go away with their boyfriends

Many single mothers

Many drug users

Many drunks

Few beatas

Many putas

All the Comay’s ancestors

Lived on my street

El bochinche was our daily bread

The bar, the drugstore

Y la tienda de Feliciano

Were part of our lives

You breath the smog

And cry the rum

As the time goes by

Many moved away

Many passed away

Many houses were demolished

Many dreams had disappear

Even if 30 years has passed

I still think about it

And still in love with my first street