Interiors: Mexican Notes

Journeying out and away
From tourist landscapes
I see the underpinnings of
Mexican Interior.

Pick up trucks full of
Kids riding in open beds
Bump down jagged cobblestone roads.
No one is seat belted.
Everyone appears fine with this

Ancient tile work
Outline jumping whales
Leaping sun lizards.

Tiny tiendas
Packed floor to ceiling with
Randomness I don’t fully understand
Chocolate eggs with toys hidden inside,
Condensed Laza milk
Next to deodorant
Next to careless banana piles
A jumbled marvel to behold.

Time and place
Call for using Spanish
Rusty bent nail skills
Corroded by winds and rains
Years past
Still hinge sentence structure and
Conjugations together
A patchwork of former study
Intense Ibereoamerican efforts
A ghost limb
There for me, still
Tingled remembrance

In the interior
I taste iced rice horchata
Cup after cup
Soothing brew
Breaking up a 13 hour excursion.
Diseased raw lettuce and tomato also
Come my way
Imposing a day
Of bathroom urgency
And stomach cramps.

In the interior
There is beauty
Opulent and lush
Amid slowed, sun drenched
“Maybe tomorrow,” time.

Tiny bugs running frantically across
My white pillow and arm
To get where they need to go
Or to avoid imminent death
Are the only ones in
Any kind of real rush.


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