Gringo : TJ Poemas : Mesopoemix




Corredor

                                by Michael Thomas


no way  back  Turnstyles clatter and
clank  pedestrians   leaving  the  U.S.
via   Twin   gates    spun   percussion
clunk clatter clink twisting your Feet
across  a  painted  line  on   concrete
pe 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

every   day

beyond the better angel lanes of

your

smoking traffic

through this place where

one world Ends

and Another begins

at the last mission bell

& iron border plaque

LIMITE DE LOS ESTADOS UNIDOS MEXICANOS

And

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

autochthon

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 México.

Push the button

check your bag

or backpack

or not

waved on

through   the

crack

between

This world

and the

N e x t

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  now   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

Junípero Serra

thank God

it'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 .















I enjoy walking home from the border.  There are several stages in the journey along the "touristic corridor" from the border gate, across the river, and up the hill to Revolution Avenue.  This has been one of them.  The first.



HTML coding by Philip Relmond -- 
please let us know if the lines and word breaks 
don't look "right" to you -- we are still flushing lefts 
and rights of versemongering with table tags.
The first "stanza" should be a straight block on both 
margins, like the international border.  The rest 
of the poem (75%+/-) should be wavy and broken,
like the movement of a crowd of people.
Mikey, let me know what you think, okay? -- Phil.



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Mesopoemix

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