Friday, January 09, 2009


2 Israelis trying to connect
It seems they just woke up
From their Mexican sleep


The Federales pulled me over
So I got off my bicycle
And they asked me questions
About my work
About my radio
About my home

I noticed a similar pattern
To the boring migra questions
They repeat the same inquiry
More than once during their conversations
Hoping somehow you’ll give them
A different answer

“Are you nervous?”
“No just a little tired”
“Why do you want this radio?”
“I want it so I can operate it”
“This radio is used by the maña
“The what?”
“The maña
“The mafia?”
“The maña
“I think you should be on a bicycle too”
“Never mind”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I am writer”
“How many works have you published?”¨
“A few poems”
“Poems…like poetry”
“So then you are a poet?”
“There you go”
“Can we search your belongings?”

They looked in my backpack
They rang my bicycle bell
They played with my Leatherman
They looked at my passport

“Are you a Mexican National?”
“That is correct”
“Thank you Sir”
“You are welcome”

They drove away
Holding their AR15’s
Close to their bodies
They seemed like nice kids

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