Writing checks your ass will never be able to cover amigo
August 10, 2011
At the break of dawn, on the colder side of my bed, he lies slanted and shivering.
In shores, people come and go in twos. Holding hands in the back of pickup trucks equipped with loud mufflers.
He buys his grocery from fair trade but dines where Spanish speaking migrant workers bleed too hard for too little. In a hotel room, they sleep in fours and cry while looking at pictures of those on the other side of the imaginary line. Whom they promised a better future, better luck and better dreams.
