It’s a warm night in El Paso
and I’m sixteen
I tried to get inside the O.P.
where queer nightlife thrives
but my fake ID was denied.

Denied.

They handed it back, said not tonight,
so I stood outside the bar,
no car, no phone, no taxi fare,
no buses running.
I stood there with my bruised ego
not sure where I’d go.
 
Streetlights flickered. Time stood still.
Then you and Irene walked outside.
Your eyes locked playfully with mine,
and you asked if I needed a ride.

I said yes, even though we’d just met.
No hesitation.
It just felt right.

We walked to Irene’s car 
and I sat in the front seat next to you

captivated by your green, flirty eyes
and your quiet, femme confidence,
the vinyl seat still warm,
your shoulder close but not touching,
the unmistakable pull between us,
my heart thumping loud in my chest,
trying not to stare, trying to act cool
in the charged air.

Be cool, Drago, be cool.

By the time the car reached the Northeast,
we discovered we were neighbors.
What? How could that be?
Same part of town, same stretch of city sky
you lived just down the block from me,
seven months older, born the same year.

We became fast friends,
then love rushed in
the kind of love teenage hearts believe 
will never end.

I felt so lucky to have you by my side
telling you this often
in youthful prose.
Teenage verses all about you, about us.
You smiled, reading every line,
kind and gentle with my youth.

In a conservative city
not safe for kids like us,

we were openly queer and proud

at a time when few dared to be.

We turned heads just walking down the street,

hand in hand past stares and slurs,

brave enough to love, to be seen, to be,

unapologetic and ahead of our time,

loving each other deeply and openly.

I felt proud to be seen with you,

proud that love looked like us.

We lived our truth out in the open

every single day, 
even when it didn’t feel safe,

turning stares into background noise.
We wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sunday games, the Cowboys on,
your laughter lighting the room.

Later, two kids carried your light,

proof your love only grew more bright.

Life pulled us in different directions,
but it never erased what we’d known.
We stayed in touch year after year
love reshaped and reborn.

Tonight I’m remembering that ride,

the beginning of everything

how young we were

how real it all felt
and the way you stayed 
and loved me all these years.
You saw me before the world did.

The ride is over now.
Streetlights give way to the dark.
The world feels smaller without you,
but your light lives on,
burning steady in the stars.

###

Evangelina Martinez
March 10, 1967 - January 17, 2026
Rest in Power