Popsicles
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.