Travis Blair


In Coyoacán
                           By Travis Blair

the cobblestones
are coated with Kahlo’s footprints.
I walk on them, feel the texture of her toes
beneath primaveras on Londres street.
I pass among her ghosts
spirits so near I smell their breath―
scent of molé sauce on Diego
smoke from Trotsky’s fine cigars
Tina Modotti’s glossy lipstick
hint of mint tequila on Paz.
From Hidalgo Plaza I stroll among them
to Frida’s enshrined House of Blue
where her persistent spirit rubs against me
so close I reach out
and touch her on the hip.

In Coyoacán I wander narrow streets
where pastel houses reek of history
and Bohemian worshippers of life
dance around the Jardin’s coyote fountain.
I try to stop time
but feel it speeding past me
escaping like helium hissing from a balloon.
I try to plug it
slow it to a stupored halt
but it runs up my arm, leaps into trees
a wild spider monkey off its leash
and Frida leans against me laughing.


Travis Blair is a fifth-generation Texan named after the commander of the Alamo. Born, raised, and educated in Dallas, he now lives a mile down the road from the University of Texas campus in Arlington where he earned his B.A in English Lit. He is author of Train to Chihuahua, a collection of poems about his adventures in Mexico, and Little Sandwiches, a 60-poem collection of love poems, erotica, and odes to women. His work has also appeared in Red River Review, Red Fez, Rusty Truck, Illya’s Honey, Yellow Mama, Gutter Eloquence, the Texas Poetry Calendar, and other American literary journals, as well as journals in South Africa, England, and Australia. Currently he serves as President of the Dallas Poets Community and a member of the Writers’ League of Texas. Travis took up writing poetry after a long career in the movie and theatre industry. He has two daughters, five grandkids, and hides from them frequently in Manhattan and Mazatlán.