An old man is walking down a long beach
white hair, a ruined face, his walking stick
punctures the sand
A blue day, with slow waves washing
Seagulls fly above the rocky cliff inland
Behind and around the old man
are shades, phantoms, shadow people
that follow him
There is a young boy
holding a red apple
He is pointing the apple
at the sea
A teenage boy, holding hands
with a blond girl
she has braids down her back
A young man in fatigues
an m16 in his left hand
a confluence of blood
pouring down his right arm
into the air
A middle-aged man
in work clothes
small holes in the knees of his jeans
from daily, repetitive labor
3 children, a boy and 2 girls
run in circles, playing on the beach
their feet make no imprint in the sand
An older man, his hair graying
follows
A woman of similar age
her long braids graying, walks with him
They are also holding hands
The old man, with the ruined face
walks a little farther
stops, looking about him
He sits down on the beach, then lays
his walking stick by his side
The shades, the phantoms, gather slowly
gather around the old man
as he contemplates the clear, blue sky
One by one
the shades, the phantoms, the shadow people
disappear inside him
Angelina is standing in the warm blue sky looking down on what appears to be a well laid out pastel city. She wonders if she is dreaming. Is this a dream of flying.
Angelina stands in that warm blue sky for what seems to be hours. Or long minutes. Or days.
She looks at the names on graves. She sees headstones and shrines with names that she does not recognize but somehow knows. Orozco, Galves Soto, Gutierres Manriquez, Guerrero. She opens a candle niche, several candle niches. They all have candles. The living have been attentive to the rituals of the dead. The living and the dead meet here often.
There is only the silence of the sun above and a small breeze bumping and shimmering the artificial flowers that have been placed at the graves. She calls out again.
Allen sat on the couch in front of the TV eating his lunch and watching a Mexican Telenovella. The Televovellas were, to Allen, wonderful stories of Love and Heroism. He had just gotten home from school. He had one hour before he had to go to work selling donuts to Gringos in front of the water store in his village. His Mama made the donuts every day. She made sugar donuts and custard filled with chocolate topping.
Don Miguel and Don Paulo played chess at a small table under the mango tree every day at 10 am. The mango tree was in the town square of El Pueblo in the low, coastal mountains of Baja California Sur. El Pueblo was their town. They were the Jefe Dons. The Jefes usually played for 1 hour, then the rest of the day could unfold as it might.
