Poetry | Two Poems by Jose Hernandez Diaz

Jose Hernandez Diaz

Two Poems

My Date with Frida Kahlo

I went on a date with Frida Kahlo. Frida was like a mother to me or a muse at least, so it
was kind of awkward at first. She sure was beautiful, though. She had on a colorful rebozo and
one of her monkeys sat on her shoulder the entire date. I didn’t mind, of course. Anything to sit
next to Frida. In fact, I became close friends with the monkey. His name was “El Jaguar.”

………Anyway, Frida and I ate at an underground Mexico City café. It was where real artists
hung out. I felt out of place, but then again, she invited me there, so maybe I belonged. Frida and
I had Cuban coffee and then vegetarian tacos. We sipped on Mescal and black tea. At the end of
the night, during an awkward silence following a conversation on Cubism, we kissed for about
30 minutes beneath a protest mural by David Alfaro Siqueiros. She asked to paint me, naked. I
was too shy and refused. On the second date, she stood me up. I mourned for a couple of weeks
and then moved on to my irrational pursuit of Rosario Castellanos.

Autobiography of My Dreams

I walked into the South Whittier Library. I’ve been living on the southeast side for twenty years now and know the librarians and staff on a first name basis. To my surprise, Hector the librarian came up to me with a book in hand. “I didn’t know you wrote an autobiography?” he said. “I didn’t write one,” I said, baffled. “Then, what is this?” he asked, holding up a book called ‘Autobiography of My Dreams’ by Jose Hernandez Diaz.” “Well, that certainly isn’t mine,” I said. “Must be fraudulent.” “It says here you are afraid of being thought of as a liar?” Well, there is some truth to that, but merely coincidental,” I said. “It goes on to say you come from a working-class background of Mexican descent?” Hector interrogated. “Well, a simple Google search could confirm that,” I said. “Your autobiography lists your dog Rufio as your sole heir? You will leave him your fortune of millions in absurdist literature.” “Now, they’re just being silly!” I said. “In fact, I checked The Times earlier and it says your autobiography is a New York Times Best Seller! Congrats!” shouted Hector the librarian. “Well, it took a lot of hard work and sacrifice, but it was ultimately worthwhile!” I shouted, holding the new book tightly to my protruding chest.

Jose Hernandez Diaz is a 2017 NEA Poetry Fellow. He is the author of a chapbook of prose poems: The Fire Eater (Texas Review Press, 2020) and the forthcoming, Bad Mexican, Bad American (Acre Books, 2024). His work appears in The American Poetry Review, Boulevard, Cincinnati Review, The Common, Huizache, Iowa Review, The Missouri Review, Poetry, Sixth Finch, The Southern Review, Yale Review, and in The Best American Nonrequired Reading. He teaches generative workshops for Litro Magazine, Hugo House, Lighthouse Writers Workshops, The Writer’s Center, Beyond Baroque, and elsewhere. He serves as a Poetry Mentor in The Adroit Journal Summer Mentorship Program.

To discover more content exclusive to our print and digital editions, subscribe here to receive a copy of The London Magazine to your door every two months, while also enjoying full access to our extensive digital archive of essays, literary journalism, fiction and poetry.