sometimes there are sidewalks
sometimes none
then
just walk
in the gutter
scraping dead leaves
against asphalt
and concrete
they are returning
to dust
joining the rest of us
in our seemingly slow decay.
single file
all of the working families
struggling
in the gutters
on their way.
an american couple
in a rented mustang
tear by us
close
i can feel the air
and static in the hair on my arms,
as they yell, "move it, wetbacks!"
seems like
an especially stupid thing to say
in mexico
surrounded by mexicans
south of the rio grande.
none the less
the comment lands
on us
in the gutter
walking.
the others look around
at eachother
and me
shrug
"gringos,"
walk on.
i am somehow included
or at least overlooked.
my tan must be improving.