Thursday, July 23, 2009


We drove into Mexico again
Like a million times before
And the bell rang
And the red light turned on
It was time for me to pull over
And opened the trunk

We stood there
The Mexican Custom official
And myself
Looking at the goods
Mostly groceries

He asked
“What’s in the box?”
Crap the box!
I thought to myself

I remembered picking it up
At the post office
And decided not to inspected it
Until later

Bad memory can be good
It can also be a curse

That box was sealed
“Books” I said
“I think there’s books in there”
“Can we opened it?”
“Yes of course”

We both took out our knives
At the same time
He looked at my leatherman
And put his blade back on his belt

I slit the scotch tape
And walk away form the vehicle
He approached the box
And looked through the contents

I forgot to tell him about the sandals
And about the power inverted
I remembered thinking

He closed the box and said “thank you”
I close the trunk and when I was ready
To get back in the car he said:

“You did very good”
I thank him
Got in the car & drove away

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