We feel sorry for Aurelio
Because he takes a bath in the irrigation pond in the evening,
And heats his home-made tortillas
Over an open burner
On an antique stove.
In the morning after his breakfast,
He'll pack himself two bean burritos
And set them at the end of a row
And hoe peanuts til lunchtime.
Then he'll eat his burritos and never have an ounce of gastric pain.
He'll drink water right out of the irrigation spigot,
And hoe peanuts til sundown,
Then go, and bathe in the pond again.

He lies down at night in an old house
Nestled between two groves of live oaks
Along a fence line
Between two 60 acre pastures
Of coastal Bermuda and Love grass.
He'll fall asleep in a bed beside a wide open window
With a cool dry breeze blowing over his clean sheet,
And the sounds of the night birds chirping
And some tunes on his transistor radio.

And we feel sorry for him,
But he has six children in Mexico.
The oldest is seventeen and pregnant
With the first of his many grandchildren.

We have two middle aged children,
And it looks like our DNA will die out with us.

-jenn