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“I live outside my mother tongue because I don’t want to hear it too often” -- Mark Sargent

bank account low
but back in line for
another run

addicted
to the stop and flow
of the traffic
across borders

junky to the aduana
I’ve got the marks
to prove it

Greenhouse

I cannot say
the wind moves me
nor that I reach
any great depth
I only absorb
what is fed to me
the formula
genetically modified
for me perfect
size, shape, shade,
potted and neat,
indoors apart
but in tornado country
it will not last long
I will be uprooted
replanted
where I belong.

n.o.

rollin’ down I-10
haven’t had a smoke in a month
but this one sure tastes good
and it’s the only thing between
me and boredom how long do we
have in this car only four hours
it’s not too long to stare out the
window east texas glares back
chili’s after chili’s and then the
bayou then a broken house with
roofs just like the roofs next door
sagging at the seams, the gutters
just hang, out, real low, upside
down, feeling not quite right-side
up the porch an extension of the
street a white new year’s
I think we talked about dogs
a white new year’s I think
a porch the extension of the
street and music sweet music

Sunday Afternoon

left work early
shouldn’t have
gone at all
telephone silent

the sun ought to warm your skin
but instead you feel the slightest breeze
you stand in the doorway
habit is one foot in the door
the smell of charcoal smoke
is the other foot out

Spanglish

my favorite language oh
what a bastard child you are
oh so popular so uso frecuente
it reminds me of a man
who made me happy and sad
que me hizo reír y me hizo llorar
the heartless ripping at the seams
patching back together every time
a new phrase: you look nice mi amor
tú también my love but we walked
the tightrope a balancing act one
penny in one hand un centavito en
la otra don’t look down.