An electrifying desert in

moonlight,

dunes under LED signs

from gas stations,

and red and blue sirens

from patrullas.

 

Within city limits,

moths flicker over streetlights,

and against a fence,

a land span marks the end and beginning

of both worlds,

a thick scar in our people,

a black line in a map.

 

A warm breeze

whispers down the dried-up river,

where coyote howls and

traffic noise come together

over cracked concrete full of leyendas,

and old shoes.

 

Some cast aside,

others hardened solid in dried mud,

still on their pisadas.

But which was first?

Shoes or las leyendas?

Only the desert knows.

 

The truth hides under

the shadows of a bridge,

where the desert is just a memory,

where the desert is a promise to come,

where the fence has been cut,

where the howls and vehicles gust by

those crouched patiently for a signal,

and the electrifying night cries out:

Ahora!