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grandma

Out the door, across the circle parking lot
past the man who wipes down car windows for pesos
Walking quickly quickly
away from green taxis
with Guadalupe holy cards taped
to the dashboards for good luck
almost running now,
parting thick hot air
Into the cool dark chapel
where I breathe in and smell my Grandma’s house
and converse with her until the sun has
fallen down.

(from summer 2006, Mexico)