Salazar and the Silver Dollar Bar
Jessica Alexander
After Frank Romero’s Death of Rubén Salazar, 1986, oil on canvas
Salazar was in the Silver Dollar Bar when they came. And then, he was in the Green Liquor Store—I cannot remember the order. There was the first and then the second. Maybe more. He had, it seems, offended them. They continued to find him, and he continued leaving through a different back door. They did not pursue him. They simply showed up again. He found another exit. In the office, the men approached him. They checked his teeth. As though he were a horse or a corpse, they opened his mouth and nodded. It was him. Salazar stood up and left. They followed him into the theatre. They would bite his face, just once, and that would be it, if he would only submit to punishment, they insisted, that would be it. He asked how hard. They did not answer. He could be disfigured. It would hurt or it wouldn’t. He could not face them. He left. They rose slowly and followed him into the street.