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.