Across the Border
by Hostess on Dec.17, 2008, under Poetry, Uncategorized
If God loves the poor,
Tijuana never heard
Above cheap, clattering tin and foil
And tourists zipping past to
Ensenada, Rosarito, other advertised destinations.
Tijuana knows it fate, just north
And just south of Paradise,
It roofs, thatched
With second-hand, even third-hand offerings once considered trash.
Its yards: altars clothed in bottles, cartons, and newspaper,
A meager apology to a God
It’s only heard passing rumors of.
