By Wallace Barker
Levantate Campesino
zocalo draped in colored
flags and flashing
christmas lights
nativity feels near
emaciated beggars
we had mole three ways
and chapulines with pico
wide pedestrian boulevards
are a relief after narrow
sidewalks and coughing engines
i want to buy a t-shirt that
says “¡levantate campesino!”
but i am not a campesino
and my support for their struggle
seems theoretical at best
a wildman covered in grime
walks past us in the plaza
he is naked from the waist down
a tiny old woman sleeps
on the sidewalk within
a barrier of plastic bottles
a makeshift wall for her protection
***
Dios Nunca Muere
we walked down steep concrete
steps to playa carrizalillo
at the bottom were men in fatigues
carrying machine guns
the beach was hot and crowded
only shade from umbrellas
above greasy plastic chairs
we found a narrow dirt path
leading over beach rock to
a small cove shaded by palm trees
two young men with bleached hair
sat on a towel lightly kissing
i felt we were intruding but we snorkeled
and observed the tropical fish
i hit my knee on some rough coral
emerged with blood running down my leg
we took a whale watching tour
on a boat called “angelmar”
and found a pod of humpback whales
including two young calves
when they breached the surface
a fleet of tourist boats rushed over
we watched the whale flukes emerge
then disappear beneath dark waves
el capitan told us the fluke means
they are diving deep and unlikely
to resurface in such a crowded area
dolphins escorted our boat to shore
we walked across
playa manzanilla
to our rental house
we swam in the pool
just us this time
just our little family
***
Mazunte
clean light over the ocean
mesmerizing the violent surf
conjugating spanish verbs
sometimes current events
sneak into my consciousness
with the balcony doors open
i heard voices from the beach
in the morning we will return home
if god grants safe passage
we will leave the man who carries
a bucket around the tourbus parking lot
sits on the bucket to polish hubcaps
while the drivers read papers
the beach dogs skinny but
happy in a languorous way
they splash in the surf
scaring the gulls who peck sand
i wont sleep with the beach voices tonight
___
Wallace Barker lives in Austin, Texas. His most recent book “Collected Poems 2009-2022” is available from Maximus Books. His debut poetry collection “La Serenissima” is available from Gob Pile Press. More of his work can be found at wallacebarker.com