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Primitiva Doesn’t Know It but She Is Being Cartooned

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Us Customs see a prominent feature and then exaggerate it.

We make the nose bulbous and ears that can fly over the fence,

sort of like Dumbo searching for the border in the dark desert night.

But what we didn’t account for in this caricature

is that we gave Primitiva the ability to listen her way to freedom-jail,

how to hear one accent and then hear another (you meet a lot of accents that way!)

at the port of entry and the accents are looking for work at the rotted carcass of the border.

Though the carcass of the border is rotten, we throw new skin on

all the time to hold the rottenness together.

Keep your rotting border carcass in one place so it’s easy to track!

We never let our border move because then we’d have to track it and erase its steps.


J. Cristo might be your co-pilot, Primitiva, but you’re ours

and if we find you passed out in the desert it’s us who will carry you the rest of the way,

straight into a holding cell and in three days you’ll arise and return as the zombie truth.

The zombie truth walks among us.

We know this parable because we’ve heard it before. The journey

of this crosser follows the same parabola of J. Cristo.

That’s what we’ve been told at least; His palabras are the truth

the way and the light and so is Primitiva!

That’s how we see her, yet we may never see ourselves

back into the skin of a crosser, our true desire, don’t tell.