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  • Grant Handgis ~ Author/Poet

"The Seawall #3"


Sea Wall #3

In Mexico, driving is an

art, where movement is

still dictated by aficionado

which everyone seems to have

at least read once, where the

old man in the truck turned around

in the alley, behind the sea wall

like a ballerina, pirouetting

in a dressing room.

The garbage truck backed over

the dumpster tonight, vomiting the load

across the alleyway, without as

much as a curse, or rapid pulse

from anyone involved

just shoveling and normal chatter

for here, all things are connected

to one another, with hooks

from the constellations, and worn

traditions older than ancient times

I love these gente, for they

carry the keys to my ride

out of this place

Copyright 1997-2011

There were poems written without the taint of love or lost affections. The people of Mexico were making me feel at home, accepted, although the struggle to make myself understood speaking a language at the level of a four year old, continued, usually with smiles, or heads shaking.

Life is no different in Mexico than it is in most other countries. It was not so much differences in what people did, or where, but how they went about it. That was so much different than the more highly structured, fast paced world I was used to dealing with. In Mazatlan, it was casual. That is what caught my attention that coaxed words forth onto the pages of my no longer blank book.


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