What we see and what we say
an infinite exercise.
The trip here with Jose Luis
gentle driver from Mexican suburbs
his brothers undocumented
workers in Chicago for 23 years.
He doesn’t like socialists
doesn’t like immigrants.
He wants more rules.
Then San Miguel beautiful bubble
the kind of bubble we’re happy to be
winding cobblestones
deep red houses
our apartment has a rooftop
people who paint
who write novels and poems
writers festivals all the time
Margaret Atwood reading Monday
a little Woodstock said our therapist neighbor
she’s from Accord, New York
a little San Francisco says our wonderful landlord
she has commuted
from California to San Miguel for 33 years.
We meet good friends from home
last night for dinner with three new strangers.
Today we’ll hear Mexican music in a campo nearby.
What is real and what is not.
How do you, when you go someplace that isn’t yours,
how do you see and what do you understand.
Phillip: Cut it out! Cut it out right now or I swear I’m going to pull over and knock your heads together. . . . I’ll dump the bodies in the mall parking lot and drive to Mexico. I’ll learn how to weave mats and sell them on the beach at Cozumel. . . . I’ll change my name to Raoul, and no one will know I was ever related to a bunch of fools.
Seth: Does he always talk like that?
Cam: Yeah, mostly. Sometimes he’s going to be Pierre and live in a garret in Paris, but it’s the same thing.
My niece went to Burning Man this year for the first time. She liked it a lot but won't go every year and was amused by folks who wanted to live like that year round. Bubbles.