delicious cool grey Tuesday morning under cloud layer leading half sunny afternoon

in the corner of the continent, slush and fluff washes back and forth between the sea and the

land. We are on the border here, between water ocean and terra firma - tierra firme - no importa que no hablo latin que no hablo inglés ni español

ay Daniel you speak fine, you speak well, don't belittle yourself, she said - or I think that's what she said, in Spanish, when I begged her to understand how little I understand and that please, Please PLEASE don't lie to me and tell me to do whatever I want, tell me what you want, even if you must tell me I am stupid and an idiot not to know what you want, tell me, please don't tell me to just do whatever I want... how heavy is my heart, how broken my dreams, to think we are fighting like this over what... over driving and who is driving home?

and then finally she wept against my chest, clinging to me and confessing an hour later how much I had hurt her with my stupid crack about how the honeymoon was over and....

well I told you yesterday how ignorant and arrogant I am

so finally we went to bed after a few Letterman jokes

and now I am on the morning bus again writing you decide the metaphor I am going to work prose poem paragraph your window decides how long is this line not I

The border is more than a line. It is a culture. It is a petri dish. Rob Petri and Mary Tyler Moore. Gelatina. Gelatine. One of those soft ice cream cones with two flavors twisted together. They call them "twists" here, too. Five pesos. Yes name. Like fifty cent. Chocolate and vanilla. The metaphor is too cliche to repeat. Temptation is a frozen treat. Confection. I can see the first morning sunbeams breaking through the cloudy mass over our faux Kansas. In front of fake Rockies.

A line of telephone poles leads over the slight riseof almost flat land. Otay Mesa is much more beautiful this morning that I don't feel my heart breaking. Sleeping by her side I realize the honeymoon is not over.

I wrote a lot more but don't feel like typing it. Or maybe.

P A C K I N G    S L I P    # 1                                   
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the poets and poetmongers and poetastros  ad astra per aspera
are arguing  we ain't in Kansas any more Toto cogito ergo sum
something about who is  fucking poorer & is or is not an egot-
istical egolotrist se dice en español  pero todos somos egoes
we ARE  all egos  and  it is so  politically correct  to deny
your self      don't  even    b o t h e r   answering no body

reads poetry          any way           caput tuum in ano est

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