Wetback of eternity

Wetback of eternity

I am                undocumented worker of eternity,

an illegal                   crossing the border of a dream.

My passport of existence has expired.

Without proper documentation                my bones are worthless.

I travel            night in a crowded truck without headlights.

I sleep in the backrooms of the law.

My American dream became

the hell of my exile.

He has come 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 twin towers stood.