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there is a desert here where cacti are vaudeville
actors hooked out of the scenery
where shells of heavy cardboard
and sheet metal are dancefloors
for the sun's legs
where you may find
                                  soaking in solvent pits
enough scrap to buy milk for the youngest baby

there is a death here
waiting for
                       corrupted minerals
                       fluids no longer resembling water
                       that ignite without flame

easy to say how good
life is here
how the water evolves in
open ditches
                       free to everyone
                       like the electricity
pirated from power lines
through splices that
spark when the rats yawn

there is work here
new sewing machines
and welding torches
                      even masks and finger cots
and pockets
in dyed pants from the texas prisons
to carry home the pesos

venom of the rattler is juice of the maquiladora
                                                           an epidemic
squeezed by the petrified wind
until coal turns into diamond

                          jewel of the rio grande
                          jewel of corporate america
                          mexico's tumor

- Livo Farallo

  Livo's page