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Timothy Mason : POET

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Buenos Nachos

I’m living in Mexico.
I don’t speak a word of Spanish,
well I speak words of Spanish,
one at a time.
Banos Hombres,
Manyana de nada
buenos nachos
meaning of course good nachos.
I like Mexican food,
Nachos are my favorite but they don’t serve them much here.
When I find them I like to able to say good nachos
buenos nachos
mostly the locals think I am saying good night even at lunch time.
Siesta is my favorite word,
such a civilized concept
Nap after lunch.
I do it a lot.
A custom I can participate in with body language alone.
I rouse myself mutter cerveza wander toward the Cantina
and mostly pass for at least being sane and somewhat polite.
I’m in the sticks in this barrio
and despite its upward mobility American English is not spoken here.
So I bite my tongue and nod a lot.
heuvos y nachos
cerveza y banos
I get by.
Manyana de nada
The people I meet here don’t know I am educated,
don’t know I’m a poet,
don’t know I am articulate, outspoken and rude
since of course I speak gibberish.
As siesta approaches I marvel at the drive of New York cabbies I met once long ago
assimilating without siestas
and the old Ukrainian janitor cleaning the labs he would teach in at home
and all I can say is
Buenos Nachos