(Old woman poaching eggs, Velazquez)
Ciudad de Mexico, Distrito Federal:
sweat drizzled on my tacos,
chili on the street mangos.
jicama, charimoya, avocado.
jacaranda and pollen and christ.
one night, we saw the cotton candy man finish his load, pouring the rest of the sugar in his hot vat and soon it all swept into the air in nets and streams and webs and cottons of blue and pink. the boys and girls and men and a woman in a wheelchair tried to catch them, jumping, bouncing, running (the wheelchair woman just moved her arms up and down). the uncaught streams of candy snagged on telephone wires, tree branches, and the church spire.
it’s frenetic and slovenly there, all at the same time.