POEM - Immigrant for a Day

In the U.S. there is everything

Strata and substrate of cultures

Stacked or sorted or grouped

And no matter how authentic

How much this place or that

Is just like the old country

It is merely a transplant

On a supporting structure

Of United States soil

The streets in El Paso look like Mexico

With one big difference

They aren’t

Obvious but inexplicable

Everything changes at this border

And for the first time I was different

On that chilly January morning

I became the immigrant

Had to have the proper papers

Show that I was allowed to be there

Allowed to do my job

Nervous and uncertain

Until I got the big green stamp

Walked out the door

And into the arms of America

            It’s the favorite joke on tourists

Because this is still America,

The Americas

            Central America

The Estados Unidos Mexicanos

We were even still in the United States

            Of Mexico, in the Americas

But it is different

Not like the Utah is different from Wyoming

Because the signs in Wyoming are brown

It is that there is nothing that carries over

The gas, groceries, fast food, department stores

Houses, cars, language, speed limit and money

All pull up short at the Rio Grande

Head back to the Republic of Texas

Unaware of the warmth here

“¿Cómo se dice ‘visitor’?”

            “¡Deríamos amigo!”