poem
Volume 23, Number 3

Here in what Used to Be Mexico,

it’s legislative season, and if my name were Hernandez, they’d be worried about me. They want plans for an immigration round-up, so here’s mine:

  1. No “illegals,” and no “anchor babies”; no mas. From now on counterfeiting words is a punishable crime.
  2. Our language is a language, not a lug nut,
  3. and you’re a thinking human being, not a wrench.
  4. An immigrant standing on a New York girder looked up at what they were building. Eleven men, boots dangling, put their lunches down when they heard him. He said, “We should call this a ‘skyscraper.’” And we do.
  5. If they live in your thoughts like a hungry idea, you might ask if some of them are hungry.
  6. I’ll keep on tipping at the taco cart. “Tres con barbacoa, por favor.


—Rob Carney