by Daniel Olivas
It is now a sport, great fun,
a diversion from your
work-a-day grind.
Hunt the mojados – “wetbacks” just
doesn’t sound humane, now does it?
– as they run across the border from
Mexico to the great state of Texas.
Help the border patrol
(though they deny wanting help,
poor overworked bastards) by lining up
your pick-ups and jeeps (American-made,
of course) and shining your headlights bright and
revealing towards the scrub, towards
our neighbors to the south.
Share a nice little Jack Daniel’s with
your buddy and keep a lookout for a
family or two, crouching, lurking,
hoping for a better life.
Cock your rifles, but never aim at ‘em,
just blast a few warning shots
up into the star-filled,
moonlit night.
It is a beautiful evening,
redolent with desert life,
just waiting for them to
cross the border.
[first appeared in Poetry Super Highway (March 2004)
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