We land in Culiacan at 15:35 and it’s hot when my cousin picks us up and he hands me a Tecate Red.  

At the funeral home I hug my crying aunts and look at my uncle David’s cadaver inside a glass box before going to the parking lot to drink Tecate Reds with my uncles who aren’t dead.   

It is 04:00 and my uncle Alfredo will not stop talking about my aunt Rocio leaving him after she found out about his second family, so I chug my Tecate Red and open a new one.  

At around 09:00 my uncle Luis wakes me up and tells me it’s time to go to the cemetery and hands me a Tecate Red.   

After stopping at a beer store, we drink Tecate Red in the car while waiting for my uncle David to get buried.  

Once he’s in the hole, I give my condolences to my aunt and cousins who seem to be taking the whole ordeal fairly well despite not having drank a single Tecate Red.   

Everyone gets together at my grandparents’ house at 13:02 and I reach into a giant cooler to grab five Tecate Reds to distribute to my uncle Alfredo, uncle Luis, cousin Enrique, cousin Danny— AKA el cholo, and brother Manny.  

At 13:03 I return to the cooler because I forgot to grab a Tecate Red for myself.   We eat ceviche, carnita asada, and play a card game called “El Topo” which I am incapable of learning due to the lack of sleep and the number of Tecate Reds inside my body.  

At approximately 22:00 I stumble inside the kitchen for a glass of water instead of a Tecate Red and as a result my uncle Alfredo questions my sexuality.  

We watch the Canelo fight and call him a bum before cheersing our Tecate Reds.  

I wake up the next day fifteen minutes later than anticipated and head to the airport where I negotiate with myself that the Tecate Reds I’m having at the bar will ease my nerves upon hitting the skies.  

"This poem is about dealing with profound loss through self-destructive behavior."

- Jesus ulloa
‍
Published 6th December, 2025.