Poetics: I remember Nogales

I remember Nogales,
just over the border a world
away we romped in our shorts
and college awe on the gritty
streets and in tiny shops where
smoke mingled with smoke,
where old cars and metal shacks
were a rusty orange-brown
and our painted toenails
were dusty from the road.

I remember Nogales,
with shelves of worms
in tequila bottles drowned
and sunk to the bottom –
and that woman passed out cold
in the heat of the dying day,
sitting drunk against a rusty
car with her dusty child
fidgeting by her side.



  

Written for Poetics — photography by Terry S. Amstutz — at dVerse Poets hosted this week by Claudia Schoenfeld, who shared with us the photography of Terry S. Amstutz, a.k.a. mobius faith. I selected his image above as the prompt for my poem.

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