The Lengths

The chain link fence divorced two worlds           the dying St. Augustine under corpulent live oak                      the alley that paralleled Bonita Boulevard

where turbid rainwater puddled in potholes          the taste of sweat on our lips, oppressive air too thick to breathe

the alley alive with hundreds, maybe thousands of mosquitoes           I watched Jesús walk into the scourge
                    shirtless, eyes closed, arms outstretched

The unwonted lengths one will go to           to feel anything but the life they are given

Copyright © 2016 by Joaquin Zihuatanejo. This poem appeared in Di-Verse-City, 2016. Used with permission of the author.