Our boss came to town. He said since he was on the border he wanted to go someplace real / Authentic. Where real Mexicans eat. None of this fake gringo stuff. You know. Ethnic.

Between the buildings, a slice of air / I pull into thinner pieces. In them / a reflection: three men escape from jail / in a makeshift boat, the fog an accomplice. / How they survive like guilt, /

Richard, you / are force of nature / confined to 6’3”, / dreads swaying / like heavy branches / 
in a storm—