The Border Studies Program, A Learning Adventure. And my soul. A Poem.

By Mikaela.

I acknowledge rules are wisdom
But I must be frank and say
All this talk of revolution
Makes me itch to disobey…

I will angrily engage with
every man who dares to hoot,
While I’m taking lusty bites of
what is surely unwashed fruit.

I will mouth off at the border
I will run in tree-filled-park
Wave my passport like a banner,
On the ruta. In the dark.

Then I’ll drink on Juarez Av’nue
And enjoy a street burrito
While I’m hopping in the truck bed
Of a sketch disconocido.

I will tell him where I’m living
We will buy some Pemex gas
And there will be no discussion
of my undernourished ass

And if someone dares to stop me
Citing safety and/or health
I will leave without discussion,
Hail a taxi by myself.

So if you imply my antics
Might well knock me off my axis
I will roll my eyes and say
That you have never heard of praxis.

Disclaimer: In reality, I understand the importance of the rules that we have and I respect the rationales behind them. I do not mean to make light of any the crime or victimization that has taken place in Juarez, but rather to express my return to adolescent angst in a (semi) constructive way.

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