No way back Turnstyles clatter and
clunk pedestrians leaving the U.S.
via Twin Gates spun percussion
clank clutter clink twisting your Feet
across a painted line on concrete
p e r c e i v e d between your ears
that the one true border is
LA N G U A G E
five hundred thousand Pairs of shoes
walk
everyday
beyond
the better angel lanes of
your
smoking traffic
through this place where
one world Ends starts
and Another Stops begins
at the LAST Mission Bell
& iron border plaque
LIMITE DE LOS ESTADOS UNIDOS MEXICANOS
BORDER OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A n d
so now
you have crossed over
to walk
between these long walls of public art
touristic information stinking telefonos
customs aduanos & something
Mexican mural struggling
to be born autochthonous
in a brain on two Mother tongues .
Go up to little green Men with Guns waiting under their sunscreen tent shade for custom inspection in front of this painted wall .
They ignore
the passing crowd
until one catches their eye
and then
Anything to declare ?
Welcome to Mexico. Please push
the button red-light
check your bag
or green-light not
waved on
through the crack
between
this world
and the
n e x t
don't stop now
hurry hurry hurry
no one reads anything here on
a path devised to divide and conquer
before reaching History corner
we must all reap the dust of
explorers Indians missions
rancheros tourists workers
& Beggars
who have crawled in
between their metal bars
bloody stumps pleading they
only need enough to get back home
to Guadalajara
or wherever
but n o
y o u
rush past tossing coins at
the ghost of that missionary
who walked all the way up from
Mexico City with ulcers on his legs
to conquer California for Spain
J u n i p e r o S e r r a
thank God
that's all over
one last turnstyle or the other
bending you around
and around
unto release on public street
at the Island of Tacos
beyond the
Sea of Taxis
who call
you to ride
ride
Ride .
(this poem was included in the 2010 San Diego poetry annual)
No way back Turnstyles clatter and
clunk pedestrians leaving the U.S.
via Twin Gates spun percussion
clank clutter clink twisting your Feet
across a painted line on concrete
p e r c e i v e d between your ears
that the one true border is
LA N G U A G E
five hundred thousand Pairs of shoes
walk
everyday
beyond
the better angel lanes of
your
smoking traffic
through this place where
one world Ends starts
and Another Stops begins
at the LAST Mission Bell
& iron border plaque
LIMITE DE LOS ESTADOS UNIDOS MEXICANOS
BORDER OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A n d
so now
you have crossed over
to walk
between these long walls of public art
touristic information stinking telefonos
customs aduanos & something
Mexican mural struggling
to be born autochthonous
in a brain on two Mother tongues .
Go up to little green Men with Guns waiting under their sunscreen tent shade for custom inspection in front of this painted wall .
They ignore
the passing crowd
until one catches their eye
and then
Anything to declare ?
Welcome to Mexico. Please push
the button red-light
check your bag
or green-light not
waved on
through the crack
between
this world
and the
n e x t
don't stop now
hurry hurry hurry
no one reads anything here on
a path devised to divide and conquer
before reaching History corner
we must all reap the dust of
explorers Indians missions
rancheros tourists workers
& Beggars
who have crawled in
between their metal bars
bloody stumps pleading they
only need enough to get back home
to Guadalajara
or wherever
but n o
y o u
rush past tossing coins at
the ghost of that missionary
who walked all the way up from
Mexico City with ulcers on his legs
to conquer California for Spain
J u n i p e r o S e r r a
thank God
that's all over
one last turnstyle or the other
bending you around
and around
unto release on public street
at the Island of Tacos
beyond the
Sea of Taxis
who call
you to ride
ride
Ride .
(this poem was included in the 2010 San Diego poetry annual)