Long After One More Lost Holiday

Coming back from some long lost weekend or another,

You asked me did I remember such and such or so and so

It was from a time in a place that I had previously long awaited

But it took me a while to dredge up a couple jumbled recollections

Then I tried to remember the distinct holidays from different years

But there was no ordered collection with little notes and titles on their spines

There was this hazy blur from which things sometimes arose,

Like fish rising from the depths of murky moving water

All those highly-anticipated, well-orchestrated life events gone by

Full of joy and recreation, people and relaxation,

Now tumbled about on my rough journey in a worn out box of memories

Events and details mixed up forever, far beyond any disentanglement

After the holiday, came the realization of the once again onrushing ordinary

I never had time to unpack and to file our time together

It quickly disappeared in our daily wake, right along with your suntan

Sometimes I found its artifacts as I cleaned out the garage

For some reason or whatever we ask each other

Where were we on that Labor Day, three years ago

I could not remember what we had done

You did not recall where we had stayed

The kids do not remember all those special places that we took them

Your mother died 5 years ago asking for you to go and bring you to her

I find another page of recollections that I give up trying to put in order

We both draw blanks and we just look back through each other’s eyes

After the holiday, as I awaken, before the first visit of my morning nurse

As Darkness Fell We Held Each Other

There was no one there that I could talk to

But hoarse shouting assailed me from all directions

The evidence was simply overwhelming

Still I thrashed about for any faintest clues

The stakes were already quite high but we all stayed in

I lost nothing but my worthless and failing pride

It looked like the rain would not stop falling

We were surprised and then shoved outside

Before the bridge broke it gave no warning

We sat and talked throughout the morning

Pretty soon we always hurried

When they were quite late we began to worry

We never guessed that we were lost

For it seemed we always headed somewhere

There was time to spare as the days grew longer

Then we awoke to cold and dark November

Kept on playing as darkness fell

Tucked them in before I left

Remembered all their lives so well

Now I’m only talking to myself

Watched the leaves fall from the trees

In those windstorms, I too lost branches

Caught up to clouds and their rain began

Missed many details since I always ran

Colors faded with the approach of night

My hair stood up from unseen demons

Felt my chest grow too damn tight

Lost silly dreams of getting even

Saw myself on the surgeon’s table

Kept on thinking I saw some light

Left well enough alone had I been able

Knew only I must awaken in the night

We sat close together as sunset faded

Nothing spoken passed between us

In your brown eyes I saw why I was created

We held each other close as darkness gathered

Lost or merely wandering aimlessly?

After a while you start to think you probably should be getting somewhere

Signs should at least begin to appear now and again on the horizon

Maybe you might see a mileage marker or, why not even a billboard?

You’d think after all of these years some sort of outline would begin to emerge

Perhaps now that your kids are gone some of the constant turbidity will settle out at last

We might turn back but it seems like a one-way that only crosses dirt tracks leading nowhere

Though it’s starting to get real dark, I think that this may be the trail that I might still be seeing

It’s not safe to hurry but we don’t know what time things close up around here

Maybe that was the right turn off, but now it’s way too far back to turn around

Our difficulty increases because we don’t speak the language and we have no map

After a while you’d think they’d have at least an occasional road marker

I finally gave up looking for signs at every fork in the trail and stuck to my gut

It’s too hot to travel during the day and far too misleading in the night

I’m finding it difficult to transition from being lost to merely wandering aimlessly

I wondered just when I would have enough time saved that I would not have to hurry

With the passing of the years I grow anxious to spy at last a heretofore unknown goal

We kept thinking we were almost there but could not ever really tell for sure

Too late we tried in vain to remember if we’d forgotten to do this or to pay that

When it finally stopped raining, the damp wind kept us cold but did not get us dry

I think now I need to go back over the scanty evidence looking for some new clues

After a long while I learned more from my dreams than from the books that I read

Arriving tired and dirty I kind of thought I probably had already seen this latest new sight

After a short rest we prepared to push on again despite our growth of misgivings

In a cove sheltered from the wind and waves we tried to regain our bearings

Finally, one day, the old dog just laid down beside the road and could not rise again

After months we realized the differences between vacationing and traveling

Once we were utterly lost there came signs to unknown places in all directions

The road I had firmly stuck to turned into a pigtrack and at last petered out in an arroyo

The one radio station we could get was broadcasted only unintelligible grunts and whistles

Later on, the children came out in every village just to witness the white strangers

At last we simply kept on going not really knowing anything better to do

If I only had but another battery I’m sure my GPS might get us safely on our way…

They Win But We're Not Playing

They’ll cash in big, real soon now, on real estate, hot stocks or maybe even gold

We never gamble, don’t buy new cars and so very rarely even go out for dinner

They still spend more than they earn on things they casually ruin, then quickly discard

We saved enough to retire early but we continue buying their new castoffs at the thrift stores

Five days a week and fifty weeks a year they toil in nondescript obscurity

We’re making more than that on just the interest from our nerdy savings

Got to have that flash new sports sedan and the latest giant whatever screen TV

We live large and free driving old cars among them - And they do not even see us

Chained to credit cards and mortgages, their spoiled children act as a heavy ballast

It’s so nice to be debtless and not even have any rent to pay…except for health insurance

They march at precise and artificial angles laid out by simpering project managers

Finally cast aside for good, our days of narrow specialization are done at last

Heading up and moving out on all those weekends which are so quickly forgotten

We spend months wandering this land, often just trying hard simply to avoid their herds

Loading up on lattes, Big Gulps, and drive-thrus they spend freely and grow fat

We buy the good stuff raw and cook it up ourselves, while sipping an inexpensive tea

They get real work done on their cells even while languishing for hours in endless traffic jams

Our slow pace infuriates them on their busy ways to their latest very important tasks

Their children cannot read or write despite all their attentions and the latest in meds

We wonder every day at the shabbier world their parents are de-constructing for them

They get news between commercials and their opinions are spun from clever sound bites

We spit out media pellets like our dogs cough out the bitter pills we place into their food

They save a lot at Wal*Mart while imports rise in proportion to jobs disappearing

We find that which lasts, even in the modern world, still remains the best

They push each other’s buttons to get their readouts on phony litmus issues

We play acting like we really care about either side of their deliberately false choices

Living for today was always real exciting but what do they remember now?

The fast times they enjoy have passed us by at last and we are not sad to see them gone

They are happy being spoon-fed their fundamentalist, evangelical beliefs

We are free to contemplate the terrible emptiness that approaches so very fast

They love fireworks, making noise and the excitement of crowds of clones

We search for peaceful quiet places, trying to fit in without making a mess

They eagerly suckle on all the pious bullshit RE: ‘ThE greatest country on the planet’

Now we hide our passports in shame traveling to places they cannot find on maps

They strive so hard to make their unique mark within the confines of the herd

We regularly get the crap kicked out of us by them for being a little different

Their rights include free clean air, unlimited good water from their taps and cheap garbage removal

We see what people in upstream places pour back for the towns down below them to enjoy

In their constrained view it’s animals and trees versus people, jobs and our sacred way of life

We are cursed by the belief that we are destroying the very web of life that supports our society

Ancient, ignored and irrelevant history slides along, an ancient 10 to 15 years behind them

We consider some of our thoughts in light of the estimated age of the universe

Theirs is satisfaction in fertilized, poisoned, over-watered factory bluegrass

We look to experience climax forests with their food chains entirely intact

They want either money from the government or the right to kill any wolf they see

We want their welfare cattle to stop abusing our federal lands for next to nothing

They search for the cheapest factory foods, never mind its manner of production

We want to eat cleanly, morally and sustainably and will gladly pay a little more to do it

They never miss reality shows, packaged corporate ‘big games’ or special presentations

We found if you ignore them, such bees quickly stop buzzing between your ears

They idle their SUVs in air-conditioned comfort awaiting their fast food orders

We try to find the shade when it’s hot and stir up something cool to drink

Their patriotic acceptance of our dEfense costs us nearly a trillion, every year

We see no justification in spending more than all rest of the countries combined

They feel safe driving overpriced, inefficient dinosaurs designed to wear out quickly

We enjoy our tiny fuel-efficient cars, full of gizmos and very comfortable

Make theirs quick, hyper-sweetened, greasy-fat-laden and heavily caffeinated

We’ll have the more subtle, smaller, whole-grain, homemade portions, please

They pursue angry recreation in noisy, smoggy, devastating gas-powered toys

We hike, swim, ski, surf, kayak, board - And can still hear our surroundings

Theirs is a world of backbiting, political intrigues and private boardroom schemes

Our quiet search of self-discovery reveals the destruction spreading out about their footprints

Their god commands they conquer the land and treat its creatures in any way they deem fit

Our beliefs tend towards mutual survival within largely intact ecosystems

They feel safe behind locked doors within brightly-lit, gated and patrolled communities

We camp alone in empty places and draw peace from the starry stillness

Their god moves about in his mysterious and fundamentalist ways

Our god has no will or message and neither watches over nor awaits us

They leave a tattered, overpopulated world to their very special children

We blew off reproduction in protest of their vast and thoughtless destruction

They plaster their faces, get botoxed and send their poodles off to the spas

We push aside most of their designer castoffs pawing through the thrift stores

Their new 300 horsepower SUV gives them a sense of pride and security

Our aging Japanese economy cars simply make more sense to us

They flaunt their financed luxuries in hopes all the world will be impressed

We hide our wealth and travel like burnt-out gypsies on pilgrimages to real experiences

They look away when they meet us walking, say in the grocery store

We try to ignore them in their idling mortgaged cars, talking noisily on their phones

Their giant empty second homes are where their families might someday gather

Our persistence retains the access to the public lands they are trying to fence off

Their children fuel the market for garishly colored cereal shot through with sugar

Cheap hot dogs and pus-like white buns would go bad if it were only us buying

They have rolled more long term credit card debt into their houses than they are worth

We sold our place before their greedy speculative bubble began to pop

Their taste for excitement, color, noise and crowds keeps their senses full

Our search for quiet peace and tranquility always begins with avoiding them

They sternly lecture everyone that maintenance of the economy must come first

We just don’t see how this wasteful circus could play on for a thousand years

They control the human landscape and to them so-called progress is quite inevitable

We will be extinguished due to their actions, right along beside them

There’s No Hiding From Our Own Advances

You’ll have to breathe what’s in the air to live more than about ten short minutes

You can’t avoid the dirty things smeared about as you fall towards the ground

There’s no real ignoring the poverty enjoyed by most everybody here

You’ll always have to hear the un-muffled trucks pounding by in their clumsy and ignorant glee

The jets will still be floating so far and wide above you, all so safe and clean

You must drink the water sometime, from a source that you will just have to trust

Unbidden solicitations will assault you, from all directions, at every moment

The food that you must eat to sustain you may poison you all at once, or over time

There’s no hiding from their bulldozers, earthmovers or giant noisy dump trucks

You can’t avoid the angry crowds from the swarming plague of overpopulation

This next upcoming pandemic will be an important milestone in your short time

You’ll experience the warmest years in recorded history, for the rest of your life

There will be a chance to contemplate the vehicles standing idle for lack of fuel

You can watch videos of empty factories for which they once destroyed good farmland

You will observe with amazement how quickly the skein of civilization can unravel

There’s no avoiding the filthy mud and yet there’s no way to clean your shoes

We can all learn to go to sleep dirty once again and wake up scratching and hungry

There’s no hiding from the all-pervasive propaganda of the competing cults of personality

You must endure the pounding of giant helicopter blades, far too close for comfort

His self-appointed representatives on here earth will drive His Will deep into your brain

Happiness will come much easier and center upon food, clothing and shelter

There’s no hiding from the toxic fugitive dust in any of our so-called great cities

You will be martyred in a jihad you do not understand for a promised place in some fuzzy heaven

Once the conglomerates have used you up, you will never work again

Watch as everything but military spending is pared back to next to nothing

Observe with incredulity the vast array of perverse crimes that make up the news

Don’t try to avoid every pothole or you’ll never get to where you must be going

There’s no hiding all your symptoms from the many problems you did not create

I cannot reconstruct my tortured path

I cant even remember the holiday I anticipated so much just five years ago this week

I have forgotten most of their foolish causes but still vaguely recall my many rages

I barely recollect any those so very vital projects they had me work on way back then

But I do recall with fondness how often we laughed heartily as they squirmed

I don’t remember the many media events that I just could not miss

I know that I had been drinking but I don’t know what we did

I remember that we were there but not really where it was

I do not recall most of those people I see in all of your old pictures

But, my chosen memories grow ever stronger, the more that I use them

I would like to forget his blinding avarice and my unwitting cruelty

I cannot reconstruct my tortured path on this grotesquely twisted journey

It was not at all easy to notice when it started, since I turned this gray so very slowly

I do not remember where we were going but, yeah, I guess we did see that

We both just smile when they tell us that we have not changed at all

I’m not sure how we got there but I recall what we ate

You remember, it was raining, so we just sat there in the car

It takes several minutes to recite just those places where I lived

What was that expensive hobby that came and went so long ago

I have forgotten the gifts we gave each other throughout those hurried years

I don’t remember all those who kicked me down, heading for the top

His name was there just a moment ago, on the tip of my tongue

I have no idea of her name but recall the grace within her walk

Sometimes I awake not knowing if I only just arrived in this unfamiliar place

Though her memories fade, my grandmother often appears clearly in my dreams

I don’t remember the last thing she said that time just before I never saw her again

At least I have forgotten most of the shitheads who parroted stupid orders to us

I cannot understand why I routinely drank myself into an un-refreshing sleep

Yes, I remember the name of that place you’re talking about, but not a thing about it

I still remember the way you smelled in that dress you bought down in Mexico

Before a certain time I have no memories of any kind, good or bad

When I pass once more into the void there will be no more new memories made

And I still don’t know where the old ones will go when I no longer tend them

Darkness In Their Light

They bought items made and shipped from far away and they saved really big

Their jobs disappeared and others worked as slaves unable to afford what they made

Her bathrooms were always so clean and shiny and safe

Her antiseptic cleansers biologically selected the strongest pathogens for survival

He awoke in the Saturday darkness and drove far to the wilderness

At the trailhead to the lofty summit were already parked more than 50 cars

His lush green and manicured lawn was the envy of his good neighbors

It leached precious water loaded with eutrophifying fertilizer and toxic pesticides

They pointed, clicked and texted their way far out into the vast reaches of cyberspace

They rejected organized learning and spelling and syntax and grammar also eluded them

The country saved money eliminating preventative social and health programs

They ignored that required new jails and emergency services proved even more expensive

The president emerged, firm in his beliefs, after talks with his personal savior

The imams were unbending in their narrow interpretations of their infallible Koran

They had real jobs cutting down trees those foolish tourists spent money just to see

When they were done there were no longer any jobs because no more stupid tourists came

They counted on an increasing population to pay the debts of their wondrous times

Subsequent generations lived in ignorant poverty on a shattered and overcrowded planet

He enjoyed his pricey morning latte and needed to get out for lunch in his new car

At 50 his services were no longer required and he realized he had saved nothing at all

They clamored for freedom and local control of their natural resources

Outside developers bought them out for pennies and built empty, gated second homes

They spent trillions building the most powerful military the world had ever known

Their greatest threat was a scraggly band in sandals that eluded them for years

They realized they could no longer stay the course

But they knew well that they must never cut and run

Executive perqs and compensation increased some sixteenfold

Meanwhile, real worker spending power declined by nearly 12%

They flocked to their beloved seashore to raise families and retire in the sand

They drained the wetlands, eroded the beaches and polluted the ocean with their wastes

She was uninjured after missing the stop sign due to her kids and her cellphone

But that compact economy car was destroyed - Thank god giant SUVs are so very safe

He could quote movie stars and commercials as well as a myriad of sports trivia

As he lay dying he finally realized his own thoughts were few and unconsidered

The dam provided inexpensive electricity and eliminated the threat of floods

The rich silt no longer fertilized the valley farms and fishing livelihoods were lost

The industry advisors spoke with one voice regarding the country’s energy policy

Their society was left supporting terrorists with every tank of gas they wasted

She took great care of herself, watched her diet and did not drink

She died thin and pretty and having not recognized anyone for more than twenty years

Ancient traditions had sustained their Asian society for several millennia

In a rush to modernization they lost their culture and destroyed their environment

Concentrating all week on those two short days off from the endless work to come

But every weekend was lost just the same in a dusty, noisy, swirling blur

Always fighting deadlines and following tight and pressured schedules

They finished way late without any fanfare because, in reality, no one really cared

Sensing the creator everywhere from all his works so close at hand

Swallowing dusty scripture without masticating, like little black pills of literal truth

Springing from the void into mother’s warmth and safety

Ascending into paradise or maybe just decaying into dust once again

Vagabond Koans (6)

Embajada

in the dark I rise then stumble

          in the coolness I need coffee

dogs snoring brings on the morning

          at last I can douse the light

………

searching for the source of the smell and sound of sea lions

          cleaning fish on the beach for the seagulls

staring for minutes on up through the velvet Milky Way

          blissfully alone where the desert meets the sea

………

rounded cove with the longest sandy beach

          a crescent swell foams left and right 50 yards to shore

sea lions and pelicans make a living out beyond the break

          not a single house and no one else upon the rough road

………

church bell rung by hand at 6

          cool among dusty whispering date palms

dented noisy work truck

          roosters crowing once again

………

reduced to large head and shrunken body

          well-versed in all tavern subjects

spreading his tired message from within the bottle

          the old man Bernie holds forth from his barstool

………

swirling up into a headache

          dry dirty mouth and sickened stomach

sore all over, skin reeking of some stale liquor

          once more he knows it won’t ever happen again

………

cutting up the earliest morning colors into narrow strips

          she hangs them out with her laundry

they dry fading in the sun

          she opens window and pulls back the drapes

………

these putas are all whores except for my mother

          they should all fuck me but my wife must be faithful

all these young schoolgirls look so good in their little uniforms

          keep your filthy eyes off of my baby daughter

Help Me To Express Myself In Silence

Help me to find that place just before the happily ever after

Help me to find all those people I keep feeling that I must still meet

Help me to find out where I was during all that lost time

Help me to find those other ways to see and to hear

Help me to listen and to make sure that I can still feel

Help me to overcome these nonsensical fears

Help me not speak just to fill up good silence

Help me to find the path again as I move on every morning

Help me fill the emptiness that slowly replaces my anger

Help me to find just a little time to catch that next oncoming sunset

Help me to live up to my always meager but ever-decreasing potential

Help me to stay up late, sleep soundly and rise very early

Help me to know to ford where the river is slow and shallow enough

Help me to bring back memories from the world in which I sleep

Help me to focus as I am swirled about like dust in a storm

Help me to find all my sheep before this darkness is complete

Help me to find a quiet place to rest as night falls again

Help me to move on though all the work is clearly not done

Help me to laugh loudly and openly, early and often

Help me to put down the bright toys of time-wasting illusion

Help me to merge with the grace of the apple tree as it blossoms

Help me to understand the things that flow from my own creation

Help me to peel back the petals of life’s lotus blossom mandala

Help me to think deeply without harboring any thoughts at all

Help me to know my position as I trace out life’s finite circle

Help me to pray continuously, without words, to no god at all

Help me to use simple silence to express all I ever need to say

Help me to find mercy in this hot and angry, loudly-shouting crowd

Help me to merely achieve the dignity and usefulness of one decaying tree

Embajada

Awakening to the real Baja California

It’s 6AM and just getting light far out over the warm and calm Sea of Cortez

The overflowing dumpster we parked next to last night begins to smell with the heat

It only costs $8US and the mosquito bites come at no extra cost

The wi-fi was a fable after the flood destroyed the town

The bumper fell off and we wont be able to carry our broken bikes anymore

Gave them away to two brothers who knew how to ride but never had their own

The flood was everywhere and took the charm out to sea, leaving behind only the brown mud

The empty mission survived and granted comfort to the remaining blindly faithful

We smashed into a piece of concrete poured purposely to jut out into the road

Luckily it hit just the back wheel and we found our dislodged hubcap by the road

A guy at the next llanteria straightened the bent rim with his sledgehammer

Perhaps the tire itself is not quite as ruined as the center of his town

There’s another route back up, but it’s 200 km of unpaved, pot-holed hell

The desert was beautiful, in full bloom, after the two unusual tropical storms

The road was badly damaged as well in too many places to mark any of them at all

Happily, the half-dozen US-funded military drug checkpoints are still in operation

Drinking water costs 20 cents a gallon and bring your own toilet tissue

Don’t put it in the toilet though, just drop it in the smelly bag right there beside the pot

There’s sand or mud or dust which gets all over everything, everywhere you go

The people are so very friendly considering that the overwhelming majority have nothing

The open roads are for dumping and shitting by lovely little accident memorials

We saw unsavory landfills overflowing quietly into the patient sea

We smelled urine as we watched a señorita sweeping her steps with utmost care

Dirty men with greasy hair and tattered clothes toil at nothing, smiling in the sun

A million tiny stands compete to sell a couple cans of Tecaté per day

Pemex is a government-owned oasis offering gasoline, water and home cooking

You’ll never get sick if you buy their good food locally and cook it for yourself

All the tiny towns are called Saint or San or Santa or some other catholic bullcrap

Desperate, sickly, limping dogs scavenge hopelessly wherever people congregate

And their puppies can be found everywhere should one need a friend

The houses are all almost finished, or wait…maybe they are already falling down

Militaristic cowboy Gringos drive by bristling inside powerfully macho OHVs

Penny-pinching and indolent retirees flock down for the sunny winters

Frightened RV adventurers pay a fortune to travel in guarded convoys

The smell of wood, paper and plastic burning often fills the air

Mufflers may be illegal here for all that one can tell by the traffic noise

You fix things only when they break down and the mechanics have the know-how

Outside showers drain on out into the sand, helping to damp down all the dust

The Transpeninsular is two shoulderless lanes dropping off steeply on both sides

Axle smashing topes appear at every block to slow traffic in all the little towns

Fisherman will gladly sell some of their catch by their boats pulled up on the beach

The huge federal prison smells like a broken sewage treatment plant

It’s quiet in the night off the highway and you can really see the Milky Way

Many of the women are quite attractive despite their Church and the constant harassment

The tortillas are made by hand with real lard and, if  they’re bagged, they don’t have labels

The new books look used because they are so covered by a thick dust

It’s good if you find you a peaceful spot, stay still and just kick back

It’s hell to drive for days through heat and sun and dust, garbage, cactus and smoke

You can clean your fish right on the beach and the birds will pick up the place

The Spanish brought the useless missions, epidemics and a tradition of litter

The rich like to fly their planes or sail their yachts from port to port for lunch

The young men stand on the back of crowded open trucks, tasting the wind like dogs

The rusting skeletons of abandoned cars picked clean abound just off desert roads

Working hard and staying dirty without opportunity really is the way of life here

The Californians try to get a hold on all the nicest places, building walls and fences

After a while the dust feels comfortable and it becomes a protective layer

Diabetes and obesity run amok but so many children have those beautiful dark eyes

Begging and the hard sell of worthless trinkets is, refreshingly, almost non-existent

Miles and miles of coastline remain totally unreachable and, therefore, pristine

A faded, dusty Maria sadly watches the drab but noisy procession as Sunday ebbs and flows

Tough survivalist Gringos yard up Hummers in walled hotels with hot showers every night

Cowardly cheap tourists cook their own meals and sleep with their old RV doors open

Mechanics will work 7 days a week and all their clothes are gray and dirty

Boozy retirees recapture their youth under dusty Christmas lights to bad old music

The Transpeninsular wanders and twists aimlessly most all of its way on down

Dust covers the litter and the memorials to the traffic dead in strictly egalitarian measure

The guide books omit the reality of heat, dust, garbage and the unremittingly unsanitary

Very few beggars sit in the dirt and the children do not plead for money

Dead cows and horses bleach to skeletons in peace after fatal highway encounters

Endless blazingly-bleak, hot, dry and stony panoramas separate the travelers oases

The locals know that you are crazy when you feed a mange-ridden stray dog

You can camp for free on the beach but just don’t push your luck and stay on too long

kings of castoff American semis thunder by on unmatched worn out tires

macho trumpeters suffering from deafening jake brake flatulence

short, fat, horny brown men pissing in the littered, smelly desert weeds

these mestizo Don Quixotes charge 24x7 across the narrow Transpeninsular

The gringos know no Spanish and that pays the Bajeños to learn some trade English

But if you try a little Spanish, they’ll be more than glad to help you on your way

No trees or farms hide the unforgivingly hard volcanic landscape

Many scenic bays have been sacrificied as septic tanks for the towns and the campgrounds

The Gulf side is hot and buggy and the waters teem with nasty sting rays

The Pacific coast has fog from the ocean’s cold and it’s too rough for the tourists

The spine is unpopulated except for the rare ranchera or Tecaté shack

Local chicken, beef and seafood is tasty when you come upon it fresh

Village mercados seem to stock just a dusty couple of everything you need

You must buy every ounce of your drinking water at small private stores

Tetanus thrives in the dust waiting for an open wound to happen by

Women and dogs do not have it good and the men must work all the time

The larger restaurants are as expensive as those up north of the border

Tijuana is a filthy pit where life is cheap and so are drugs and medical care

But they’re locking up the coast for Orange County gringos down to Ensenada

Little bits of trendy SoCal behind new security fences surrounded by old poverty

The scorpions are hard to see against the shattered volcanic debris

The rock art appears to be adolescent doodling in the brutal mid-day heat

Things move at a rusty, creaky pace and everybody pretty much gets by

Then an occasional  hurricane washes a horribly purulent mud down to the sea

Being Embajada is a state brought on by heat and dust and rock, grease and dirt:

Cooked deeply into one by that unremitting peninsular sun