Saltillo- Here We Come.
A summer away from home past rivers
swarmed with hopes of better days,
and fences lined with “What brings you here?”
A summer where money isn’t cheap anymore.
A summer with a rickety caravan
colored in silver- and dirt.
A summer with men jumping at our wheels,
Asking for tips to take us into town.
No gracias.
A summer where grandmothers hang along highways,
selling fruits and giving directions.
They help us find our way to the mountains-
down broken roads and tolls.
A summer that takes change from our pockets.
Tolls.
A summer that needs pennies and pesos.
Tolls.
We ask the summer to let us have enough-
money and patience.
A summer that doesn’t listen. It brings hammers
of flashes and rain. It makes rushing roads stop.
A summer where we hazardly pass cars like
a children’s crosswalk. Eyes straining past
droplets for glimpses of red lights.
A summer where stop and stuck
are synonymous.
A summer that takes a deep breath and a view
to keep us going.
A summer in Saltillo- here we come.
FREEWRITE: summer away from home past rivers swarmed with hopes of better days and fences of “what bring you out here?” ‘s. Money isn’t cheap anymore. How much does it cost to get stranded in customs? A van with silver colored within its lines. Not knowing which road to turn on, men try to jump on our wheels. No tips. No gracias. Old women hang along highways, selling fruits and giving away directions. We head on. Down broken roads and into mountains. Towns are symmetrical, mountains are not. We wind along them but stop. Toll. Take the change from your pocket. Toll. Penny or Peso? Toll. Please let us have enough. Enough money and patience. until we get hammered with flashes of rain. Rushing roads come to a stop. We hazardly pass cars like a children’s crosswalk. Eyes searching for red lights of cars ahead. Stopping means getting stuck. We keep going and find ourselves at the end. Take in a deep breath and the view. Now down into the city. Saltillo here we come.
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