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Showing posts from February 23, 2010

Illegal

1. She shares a room with eight strangers. None of them know where to buy money grams. Her face flushes at the grocery store, but she still looks straight into my eyes and asks: Can I walk there? Which way is it? 2. Jobs are scarce, so he eats what he finds in dumpsters near the house, squats on a vacant lot that floods in autumn.   He doesn’t say it, but he’s scared of fever. Knows that if he dies, back home, Juan will stop by the bar and flick quarters in the jukebox. Jose will tell dirty jokes at his wake until four in the morning, while Pedro recounts the story of the irate husband shooting at his naked butt flying over the fence. But here, he doesn’t have a name, he’s constantly cold and unnoticed. 3. She makes it difficult to ignore the wet clothes on a man’s back as he wanders into la migra’s office for a 24-hour stay, or a free jet ride home. She’s too alarmed to remember the two daughters left behind. Umbrellas keep her in the shade while officers bring tam