| Lunes, 1 Septiembre |
| Tijuana, Baja California |
| by Daniel Charles Thomas |
|
|
|
|
| email: tijuanagringo@yahoo.com |
| Copyright 2003 Daniel Charles Thomas |
 |
 |
 |
| A |
 |
| in Teotijuanacan where the gods were made. |
|
|
|
 |
| Potpouri or I cannot spell it. |
| Mars continues to sneak up on me every evening. Mmmmm yes I love the stars. When I read what Philip wrote I flew away there into my own little hog heaven. Speaking of writing, David at refriedgringo.com has another tale to tell of his neighborhood and I for one am glad to see him back writing again. Still feeling mean and guilty over here. -------------------------------- I have rented my apartment in the west end of downtown Tijuana for 3 and 2/3 years now. On the average I spend twenty some days a month here, and five to ten in San Diego, usually with the parents in Lajoya which is somewhat fictional actually since I don't want people calling them up and bothering them about my drivel heh. So I moved them. Flash. But the +20 & -10 figures are accurate, roughly. When I cross over, I stay -- I don't like crossing that flushlinger gate into my own country US'ns are verrrrrry uptight now and well, that's war I guess shudder what was that? Oh, more fireworks.... No, I don't like going back and forth but thousands upon thousands do it every day for work and shopping, and then there are those who jump over or crawl underneath or.... Such is our reality. Sux sumtimz no. |
| Ramon's kitchen worker Gonzalo tells me the cat had kittens in the basement. That their eyes are open and they are walking now. The mother cat has been hanging aroumd here for a month now, maybe two. It's September now, yes? Everyone seems to have seen her and given her food. We will need to get her spayed and then the kittens, too, which means they must be tamed. I'm going to try it with food -- Mama already knows where my door is and comes meowing to eat. Arches her back when I scratch her. They sell pet food in the markets from bins. It is all very Mexican on the California line. |
 |
 |
| Busses to all parts cross the growling gate. This country is open for business and so is this next country next door window road. Two silhouettes intertangle on the curtain I struggle to make them out from shadow female/female male/female female/child child/female male/child male/male archetypes of sharing and robbery enhance the defaced border frontier ''línea internacional'' words move on everyone lips going to the other side coming back going out going further coming back coming forward arch-travel severe pilgrimage daily traffic f l o w a c r o s s . If you walk back from Mexico at Tijuana to the U.S., you will pass the name of Richard Nixon carved in stone on the wall under mystic pyramid, eagle and arrow cluster shield. A hundred years ago you could almost buy a hamburger or take the train across the line toward the race track that opens twelve years from that coming January 1916. NOW There are a dozen Fast Food restaurants out in left field. Bus and taxi parking lots and trolley stations embrace this border gate with superhighway miles of traffic yawning toward the north and all its bright lights Hollywood camera action................... I would trade it all for one sweet cricket chirping in the night beside someone I love and loves me back. But I cannot erase the truth of society and history nor turn back that moving hand has written here. Up on the edge of the hill, cut by iron fence and new dirt roads, one railroad track sneaks through. Sometime they jump the fence there. They're always sending people back, too. Deportado is the word and name for exile. Sometimes you can see the manacles, sometimes not, here in the gate of judgement at this very e n d of the world market . They are bringing them back, right now. See? The gate opens. Goodbye . Hello . It's d o n e . |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|