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Day of the Dead

November, 2020

Tourists with no destination walk

waving smartphones on sticks, taking

selfies: Look, here I am with Billy in

Oaxaca.  They arrive with naked faces.

Then remove masks for photos

posed before altars and Catrinas. When

they see me see their naked faces hastily

they re-cover, like morning glories at sudden night.

In tourist heaven like any heaven there’s

nothing to do but pose. I look at their

shoes, to identify national origins.

I’m never wrong because I never ask.

I turn to the wall my face when we pass.

No heaven here, folks, sorry.


Two lizards cohabit my mailbox.

I know they’re having sex despite

the season, or because of the season,

and their tiny offspring will gobble

mosquitos in the patio at night, saving

me from dengue the following week.

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