La curiosidad que se mece en la O, en la abierta y melow-raccoon-
desciphered
fuga de la nostra vita, nos friega, easy
then began
un pre-entierroperativomiticarcelamelarrábamanojohoyo-yu young &
hungry
of the border police
being subrepticiously
al acecho as J.W. crossed the limits of the Bravo River
jumping over the peripherikal buttond’ up
tin-canned fence left-over from “su chingada madre de todas las guerras”
en gira-gira mirada mierda de la migra

–¿Wha..?
–Queridou, te agarramous!
–Est miusquie?

Screamy Archie Tednon yet liutenant, fruit-pudding –bowelled
razor-mellow fillyhunter,
couldn’t capish the Spanglish
igual que Tongolele & Popeye
and his piss conduit in the firebelt of his middle age
knew not what the hell to do

Again the same story:
ignorance bouncing off the walls of their skull:

A Confederacy of Dunces
dribbling in front of
whatever foreign language
or foreign innominable appears.
Forty-Love!

–Get the fuck outta here, wetback!
–Est mius quie?

–You mean excuse me, you bag o’ dirt
Chale, I’m a routist.

Another chauvinist microwaved wasped the scene from their border
patrol
whinning loco-motive car
and ditched in catsup shouted:
Archie-piel-an’-go! Motherfucker!
Thesee missy güevada de cabrón no se merece nada.
‘Ámonos!, he said form the punches and bruises of his
decayed mixed marriage

–¿Sabes que’s bueno para eso?
radish

Noviembre de 1988