Mexicans Lost in Mexico

it was summer and time circled itself like a swarm of gnats  

                                     like the pink-topped taxis rounding the 

	   if only for the sake of inertia, 
			             we were standing in a foreign desert

the days of the week slid by, uncapitalized

	    my grandfather forever trapped in the picture 
			             where he pretends to play the guitar

a serenade for tourists and lovers with new rules between them

		        our occupation: to look and not touch

at some point we could no longer tell if it was the clouds we were looking at 
		        or the building reflecting the clouds

				                 all epigraphs came pre-assigned

the beautiful thing about this story was that it happened

		         we didn’t see the floating gardens 
					                      and I don’t remember the art  

only the symmetry of a blue wall, a momentary breeze

			            there were parrots, I think, or peacocks?  

				               there were birds

Copyright © 2019 by Nico Amador. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on January 7, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.