Life on the street in San Quintin, Mexico is hard.
There are too many cars, trucks and machines for love and safety.
Blowing dust behind the buses from broken mufflers
Then there are the billboards
of objectified women
and the animal flesh
junk food, carne asada,
strawberry flavored, or smoked, or salted, or baked
legs or ribs
whole bodies from the butcher’s shop.
My sadness for the women, children, and animals,
as I sit at a blinking red traffic light.
Stop, go, stop, blinking red.
Then, out of nowhere,
a small, dirty, street dog
with matted, yellow hair
from our troubled world
trots into traffic
with a stuffed animal in his mouth
of all things
a stuffed animal
oblivious of the apocalypse on earth.
Bad timing I think.
There’s nothing I can do.
He’s a goner I think.
Crossing the busy street
without a care in the world
following the 5 o’clock church bells.
Time stands still.
A path clears
A distant bell
a sound, only dogs can hear,
or is it the protection of the stuffed animal
dangling from his mouth?
Safely to the other side of the street,
A miracle on how to live in this worldBrowse Front PageShare Your Idea
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