| I wander through the street reciting poetry to myself (silently I am reciting silently, without moving my lips. I am not the sort of wandering madman who jabbers out loud on streetcorners and sidewalks. No, I am another sort of madman, quieter, controlled, ranging beyond the stars and back in lines of good and bad poetry) to say for example the night is starry (it isn't... it's broad daylight right now) the night is starry and they tremble, blue, the stars, in the distance pues decir por ejemplo la noche está estrellada y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos Neruda or I digo por ejemplo How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him, Shedding white rings of tumult, building high Over the chained bay waters Liberty-- Crane thank you, Masters So I wander, like my cousin D often does -- we are much alike, we are twins from other ages -- he barely escaped service in Vietnam, that war that killed my own jet pilot father before I was born -- yet we both wander up and down this Earth with verses running through our head and grieving because now our brothers and sisters are dying in Mesopotamia.... ________________________________________________________ I also wander and scribble while I wander... these first notes later typed, for example, decir por ejemplo Or now, for example, I walk slowly to this internet cafe ( there are others, I know many others, the same or more, shall I count them oh my brothers and sisters Whitman ) and as I walk I am actually scribbling in my notepad, the writing fool only one eye watching where he's going on the uneven, broken sidewalks at this end of the earth, yes, Mexico. Yes, Tijuana, and there he goes, writing again slipping in and out of first person, third person until second person you are not quite sure who is telling you what, are you? Oh, you are? Heh. Congratulations, then. The gold ring. Ticket to ride. Yours you win. Whatever meaning you construct, is. Look! There goes the prancing pony at Bree! Here come the Hobbits... oh, no. Not really. But yes little brown people from the south, whose ancestors built pyramids and invented guacamole mmmmmm.... Or I walk slowly scribbling in my little notebook pages that can fold up and fit steno pad in my pants back pocket easy, yes, or I walk scribbling this and that I see or think, yes, trusting that when I get here to the machines with the clickity clackity chatty keys then now I will know what to say to copy and conclude and expand Mister Speaker I reserve the right to expand and revise whatever the flower shop on the corner, the suits, the nice-looking business suits hanging in their window, there is no flower shop on the corner it's halfway down the block I get carried away and scribble before the REVISE button gets pushed it is almost ten of the morning in Tijuana. Crowds are only now beginning to build toward the midday and afternoon crush. Soon there will be more. And tonight will be Friday night.... a woman sweeps the sidewalk in front of her shop. She is well dressed to make good sales and the broom delicately, yet firmly swings from her hands, directing the dust away from her polished shoes. Next to her glass windows and awning, the white fruit wagon minitruck is always parked at this spot (on "C" between 2nd & 3rd, near the side entrance arch to el Popo market). A shoeshine stand, the man asks me to sit down and be buffed... no, gracias. Beyond t h a t a window full of knives, scissors and binoculars yes b i n o c u l a r s makes m e t h i n k o f M a r s y e s s s s s s s s 1 2 3 5 7 11 13 17 19 23 29 31 Taxis are waiting at the curb. Tacos move slowly at 09:56. Down the block past the BIG CHURCH to the little shop where they sell coffee, and have sold it for as long as I can remember. When I was younger I used to always remember to come by this corner in Tijuana whenever I came here in the daytime, a block down from the cathedral, you can buy a cup of fresh coffee or Mexican beans or instant. Now it's up from what it used to cost, but still only five or six pesos for small or large black (but more for capucino -- yes, they've gone stylish, toooo.........) Watching the people greeting each other on the street. Handshakes, smiles, words. One remembers me and we smile, nod. Storewindows are full of specials. Girls in plaid skirt uniforms cross the street on the way to school. B I E N V E N I D O S M E R C A D O M U N I C I P A L the old downtown market, not the Popo at 2nd & Niños, but the other down Niños past the church, is full of flowers and fast restaurants with formica and picnic tables begging you to eat there you could do worse but I ate at home all I lack is a cup of coffee swish shish switch the broom on cement sidewalk sweeps away the water and dirt with a bit of soap powder flung upon wet |
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| Freyesdaeg, 29 Augustus Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico |
| by Michael Thomas |
| -- Earth to Michael, Earth to Michael -- { Now I am wandering too } |
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| email: tijuanagringo@yahoo.com |
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| Copyright 2003 Daniel Charles Thomas |
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