Wetback of eternity
I am undocumented worker of eternity,
illegal crossing the border of a dream.
My passport of existence expired.
Without proper documentation my bones are worthless.
I travel night in a crowed truck without headlights.
I sleep in the backrooms of the law.
My American dream became
the hell of my exile.
He comes out of shadows, they point at me and say,
when I appear from the toilets of my job.
It doesn’t matter. I celebrate like a wetback
the passage of wind in desert altars
and contemplate infinity in the place
where the saguaros stood.