Everything Rolls Here On The Aztec Calendar

neighbouring giant
go take my machine box to
teeming Mexico its
broke down family farms
shunt way of life
I try learn the language still
mess in my mind with Eng
lish
watch the growing up boys,
girls, on their tongue depressor surfboards
for a few quarters they'll let you
film them
rusted brass clock ticking in a room
religious icons globe their eyes at me
wherever I move
tequilas help in the mugged prickly heat
bones of firsts tourists
displayed smilingly at the white skirts of town
called pueblos
wasn't there an incident
some red faced brass U.S. boat stuck out somewhere
the ship's crew of ours parked off shore
see a sun dimming, desire
leave the upchucked gringcanos
their Banana-nana Republic striped shorts
pop pictures cameras
in the between cantinas gore alleys
bad fend
for their Hell selves

Peter Layton
Lakewood CA