Pineapple & chile popsicles in Ojinaga, we eat them under a mural of Pancho Villa. I’m wearing
the sunglasses of my dead friend, the only thing I took when I went to see the room he died in. The popsicle’s
so good I want another one right away. On our way back we pass an abandoned shoe store, the windows filled with dead
flies, thousands of them now where the shoes should be. Next to the popsicle place a store sells pinata’s, anyone can buy
a little Trump, his empty head filled with candy. Conception cried when he got elected, her parents said, Get ready, said,
When ICE knocks don’t let them in. I’ll wear my friend’s sunglasses until I lose them, imagining what he might have seen
if he’d been able to stay. I’ll eat the second popsicle under the same mural of Pancho Villa, riding his horse
into a whirlpool of light.
Cover Image: Eamon Ore-Giron, Infinite Regress, 2015-2017.