a million moths.

this morning the beautiful and the tragic danced cheek to cheek. to the right, a quinceañera. a riot of dandelion yellow skipping down red steps. zoot suits, sparkly heels, puffy dresses and bouffants sweet and sticky with hairspray. the girls and boys giggled and squinted in the sun while waiting on the sidewalk. to the left, a makeshift memorial for a tamalero shot to death the day before. a half dozen lit candles, red and white roses, a few prayers and dry blood. for 25 years, the father of three sold tamales on that block, festive cumbias flowing from his old white and green station wagon.