12:02 p.m. - 2004-07-26
Border
i wrote this a while back, but i realized i never got around to putting it up on diaryland. it was written about a 20/20 news story that focused on the drug trade in and out of america... specifically, the kinds of packaging manufacturers and pushers will use to transport their wares. there is a huge disconnect between the origins of said drug and whatever hapless partgoer is doing them- the more affluent the country, the more this seems to be true across the board. sometimes, i think that america has the biggest disconnect of them all. perhaps, to some extent, it isn't to be helped (would anyone trade affluence for poverty, and why should they?), but a nation can be prosperous and still aware. every action has a consequence- even if you don't personally bear witness to it.
over her hips, caboosing her pubic bone
while she six-steps.
she gives her candy away
freely. its the nature of things.
sheri's shirt says 'sisters'. sheri says
she wants to roll. rockstar baby.
funky breaks. there was this one time, in tiajuana,
these traficantes con pingas min�sculo...
they gave el peque�o their candy
execution style to it's head. split it open
(funky breaks). gutted it out (rockstar baby).
paper mache skin, filled to the brim now
sewn shut. pills popping through. when they
brought the border bust, el gringo-on-patrol
saw skin in the back(car)seat,
taunt pampers sheen;
too shiny. too blanco por los familia chicano, �sabes?
�entiendes? no sisters here. no six-step
san diego caboose.
found: one carcass, 7-months.
lost: one mdma carrying case.
no se preocupe, querido; there's more where that came from.
its the nature of things. sheri's water bottle is empty. she feels a beat match,
black eyes and swollen lips in the club
bathroom mirror.
she's just nodding bobbing
nineteen year old fanfare.
freely, freely...
she swallows again. after-hours american baby.
anthem breaks.
