El Tapio, Baja Mexico, 2011

He runs far and stays away on school nights

Chasing fish, grasshoppers, girls

Grass stained knees and orange blood on a sleeve

The fields stare back at him from class

The mountains fill the room

Teacher stuffing letters into the pockets of the good kids

Who look and listen as the air conditioning blows

He runs far and listens to the old timers

Spinning yarns on benches built by their fathers

Making lite of the broken systems

That allowed the fishing to get so bad

The tall cans never get empty in their hands

He punches the boy from lunch that poked his ribs

And scratches his eyes in a bloody fight

Banging skulls against the gymnasium door frame.

Teeth in knuckles and hair between teeth.

After school he ran to the riffle in old Jensens creek

To burn and drown the note sent home

That he wasn’t afraid to die.

———-

The season is here. Plans have been hatched and more are coming. Gonna be a busy 2 months. I can’t wait to recharge the batteries.

Good luck to you all. Full freezers, bellies, hearts.