my last days en la ciudad...

i spent the final night in mexico city in the company of a man named ricardo and a couple mexican poets and artists who gave me walt whitman poetry in spanish. walking among the protestors, i met the acquaintance of a man whose name i forget who encouraged passersby to paint their image of the demonstrations. below is mine.

at the booth, i spoke at length with a mentally challenged young man from chiapas. the language barrier was difficult enough coupled with the mental one. i similarly talked to a young man who caught my attention simply by the way he walked. he was different from the rest. he swaggered about, up and down the lane of protestors. he was american in town visiting his family. i could detect his californian sensibility simply by his gesturing.