walking into mexico

walking into mexico
the hussies and fussy air know
foreign lungs well.

especially on avenue
de la revolucíon.

the modern gold pieces,
the universally accepted
rectangular plastic symbols of consumption:
widely accepted.

hollow attachments to soulless gimmicks
and painted shit
is evident in the semi-dry convictions
of the merchants
to their obviously inflated prices.

reality? the real tijuana
is indeed this.

there is no culture of historical significances
unless one embraces that,
an appeal to thrifty, cheap entertainment,
a satisfaction of selling solitary enjoyable moments
of manufactured amusement
in cheap beer, even cheaper shots.

who knows what else lurks
in the barrios to be
consumed by excess dollars
just waiting to jump from the
pockets of gringos
or their foreign cousins.

walking into mexico
this reality of culture abounds.
the workers who prop up
the façade of wealth and prosperity of an entire economy
moved quickly, even if they had enjoyed
a few churros y coca cola in their lives.

even if their enslaved existence to the invented
service industry bewilders modern concepts of
freedom and equality.

when men thrice my age bag cheap tequila to subsist,
when women who probably could find better things to do
craft flour tortillas for already grossly enlarged waistlines,
when avocados find themselves in the worn hands of people lusting for success,
they are harvested,
like those millions of dreams.

walking into mexico,
all of those people find themselves
back into that reality.

we are some of the descendants of those glorious historical figures,
they might say.
we want what they wanted,
cry over the same spilled milk,
laugh over the same crass jokes,
sacrifice each other for the same prosperity.

thus, it all makes sense.
we no longer pull their hearts out,
but the extractions?
maybe they go deeper.
(originally written August 28 2008 at 1:00 pm)