Addressed to: St. Oscar Zeta Acosta

A letter to be delivered to El Zeta. Where ever he may be. Mictlan? Mexico? Sleeping in some parque in Eas Los?

But definitely breathing in our corazons, tlazo....

Dear Zeta,

I'm a Brown Buffalo. There is no way of getting out of it. This is my joy. I'm alive. Soy Cucaracha. This is something that cannot be taken. Not even I can fuck this up. I was on the edge of extinction and today was a good day to die.

But La Flor, that grew from my hand; in this moment. Let me know the sun was still up. There is still light to graze.

Con un Amor Revolucionario,

Juaquin Murrieta