Issue |
 |
May |
|
a poem by Janet Richards (1 of 2)
Across the Rio Grande
102 in the shade
aliases melt
amid dime bags and mezcal--
he might see God in the Agave.
Hank Williams crackles tinny
across the street
where Juan sells his wares
from dawn
'til after dark
when he packs them
carefully
in a cardboard box.
Beyond the Avenida
with its attractive traps
the denizens of the streets
await their prey.
The señoritas still flock to Juarez
but it's her
across the Rio Grande
in a slip of a dress
it's her
that keeps him
from a ticket
on the Copper Canyon train.
aliases melt
amid dime bags and mezcal--
he might see God in the Agave.
across the street
where Juan sells his wares
from dawn
when he packs them
carefully
in a cardboard box.
with its attractive traps
the denizens of the streets
await their prey.
but it's her
across the Rio Grande
in a slip of a dress
that keeps him
from a ticket
on the Copper Canyon train.
© by Janet Richards
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #9 ~ May 2010
next poem