mexicos last
mexicos last
I’m heading backwrds on the road from comitan to armatrillo, backwards into the long pine forests of chiapas, backwards away from the border of mexico, away from the armed guards, away from the fat border officials, back towards the israeli woman. backwards. the fields by the side of the road are on fire, and the hot blaze and smoke reach out to the leaking fumes of my gas tank, another casualty of the roads another warning on the uphills and downhills, on the broken gravel, to all those that pass, that animals and children live here. beware, slow down, obey, those are the signs on the backroads of chiapas, those are the signs that I am following as I head backwards., I look out onto matchbook squares of dirt. Black and white bulls, with horns and a swollen hump, sows with long necklace ears of lapis, over sweet black noses, black rocks, pourous from thirsty flames stacked like pearls on a debutantes neck, stacked and plowed by a wooden rake two inches deep in a trough of zapatista tears. torn and mended, purple and white scarfs like enenomies in a tide blow up womens backs carrying babies and oranges to amatrillo, backwards to me.
I was gonna enter guatemala today but I forgot my camera in a small hotel in amatrillo, a two street dirt town off the main road between palenque and san christobal. I dropped off the israeli girl in the bus station in palenque, told her to go to the ucatan. I told her about the carribean sea, and the coves of tulum. I kneeled over her in palenque and emptied my meaness onto her chest, turned away from her demands, and left her alone. I dont want anyone to see me cross the border, see me lose faith, lose dignity lose control. another border another heartbreak, another new kind of alone, and the fires are hot and the smoke threatens and I swerve to avoid a bloated white burrow, who has been hit by a truck, bloodied bowels ooze backwards from its furry rectum, its brother or sister dares me with pitiful eyes, under long lashes and a leather bridle torn at the reign. stay back I whisper, half to me half to the burrow, and a fantasy half to the israeli, as she cleans her chest with a white towel from the bathroom, curling up into a ball at my feet. the bed is cramped and I hear the oscillating fan skip a turn, banging, banging against plastic blades, and a bent cage, banging against palenque, banging against borders and women, and me, banging into the morning, broken and alone.
I’m heading backwrds on the road from comitan to armatrillo, backwards into the long pine forests of chiapas, backwards away from the border of mexico, away from the armed guards, away from the fat border officials, back towards the israeli woman. backwards. the fields by the side of the road are on fire, and the hot blaze and smoke reach out to the leaking fumes of my gas tank, another casualty of the roads another warning on the uphills and downhills, on the broken gravel, to all those that pass, that animals and children live here. beware, slow down, obey, those are the signs on the backroads of chiapas, those are the signs that I am following as I head backwards., I look out onto matchbook squares of dirt. Black and white bulls, with horns and a swollen hump, sows with long necklace ears of lapis, over sweet black noses, black rocks, pourous from thirsty flames stacked like pearls on a debutantes neck, stacked and plowed by a wooden rake two inches deep in a trough of zapatista tears. torn and mended, purple and white scarfs like enenomies in a tide blow up womens backs carrying babies and oranges to amatrillo, backwards to me.
I was gonna enter guatemala today but I forgot my camera in a small hotel in amatrillo, a two street dirt town off the main road between palenque and san christobal. I dropped off the israeli girl in the bus station in palenque, told her to go to the ucatan. I told her about the carribean sea, and the coves of tulum. I kneeled over her in palenque and emptied my meaness onto her chest, turned away from her demands, and left her alone. I dont want anyone to see me cross the border, see me lose faith, lose dignity lose control. another border another heartbreak, another new kind of alone, and the fires are hot and the smoke threatens and I swerve to avoid a bloated white burrow, who has been hit by a truck, bloodied bowels ooze backwards from its furry rectum, its brother or sister dares me with pitiful eyes, under long lashes and a leather bridle torn at the reign. stay back I whisper, half to me half to the burrow, and a fantasy half to the israeli, as she cleans her chest with a white towel from the bathroom, curling up into a ball at my feet. the bed is cramped and I hear the oscillating fan skip a turn, banging, banging against plastic blades, and a bent cage, banging against palenque, banging against borders and women, and me, banging into the morning, broken and alone.
posted by bigworld06 at 12:34 PM
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