Poem for Thursday, April 29, 2010

Goddamn Papers

Big man in tan sounded off the red and
blue while Pepé was coming home
from the fields just outside of

torrid Tucson.

Big man asked Pepé for his
"goddamn papers"; Pepé reached
in his glove compartment

aggrievedly.

Third time stopped in a week, twice
by Big man. Pepé thought about
his wife's hominy stew

growing cold.

He wondered how he could pass his
citizenship test on the first try but
couldn't pass an intersection

without being stopped.

Big man eyeballed Pepé's papers, stupid
as an aimless child gazing agape at
the sun, then tossed them

through the car window.

Big man scratched his crotch, said,
"Welcome to 'merica." Pepé had lived
there for ten years, and this was

his first welcome.