last impressions of earth, or mexico

03.03.06

early morning.

a Mexican rides in the back of a pickup truck, bleary-eyed wrapped in a blanket.

the sun begins its day beneath the horizon-a strip of apricot begins to grow, silhouetting a lone plane, mountains, volcano, bushes.

the lights of the city glitter in the hills, birds chirp inside the glass terminal. a verdigris-covered fountain splashes, it is cold. cool enough that i must wrap my sweater over my bare arms, cold enough that my toes feel a chill.

the who, Elton john on the PA

passers-by who chose not to face east wander up to the glass in wonder and amazement at the dawning day.

the world shakes to life.

i can still taste my vending machine  express café con leche y azucar, the cheap milk coating my tongue. i feel fatigued, thrilled to go home, listen to English voicemails, see my friends.