Observations
Transients
Part of the charm of Puerto Escondido are the transients. They stay for a few weeks, maybe exchanging work for a dormitory room in a hostel, or they rent an apartment for a few months. Others stay years and move on. None put down deep roots. And why should they? If they have children, they do not send them to public schools.
Hearts are broken, expectations are not met. Memories are created. Most of the flowers in my garden came with the wind or bird droppings. I’m no botanist, I have no idea how long they will stay.
From my perch in the Bruja bar on the Rinconada I watch the people pass by – mostly young and beautiful, from all over Mexico and the world. And I wish them the best. Everyone who passes through leaves a foot print on the beach which will soon be washed away by the tide.
La Roma, Mexico City
So I’m sitting at an outdoor cafe across from the hotel and everyone is so young and good looking. I am dressed in my loose jeans with elastic waist and a black cashmere sweater from Costco 20 or 30 years ago and a hat from Berkeley. And I pretend that this old lady was once a famous French movie star. Of course, I hung out with Picasso. My Paris, where I was someone, was in the 1920s. Or maybe I was in Rome in the 1950s, I used to hang out with Fellini. In other words, I imagine I actually lived the life I dreamed of when I was in my teens and early 20s. Because, if I had lived that life, I’d still be an old woman, alone in a smart coffee house. And who remembers the idols of our youth? Anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
NEEM
I hooked up with a homeless band
of shopping mall nomads,
connoisseurs of furniture emporia
where we bed down in the glow of a security camera.
I joined a porous band, thick as thieves,
of harmless runaways and retirees
escaping into alley ways
from the armies of workers
disgorged from offices at last light.
Or, strangely, I sprout roots and leaves:
a non-native tree like the Indian neem
the birds decline to nest in nor the pests destroy.
