El 11 Septiembre en Córdoba

Since your tragic fall, los remiseros ask
me daily with cracking throats, how does
it feel now that you've been attacked?
I feel like it happened far away in a land
that is not quite mine. Castigo, ¡que puta!
I say instead. And, are you afraid of bombs,
señorita? Yes, indeed, as I am afraid of myself
sometimes. Outside of my apartment building,
the Río Suquía bubbles madly with mud; a
small boy is almost swallowed whole as
I watch, motionless, from my window. Yes,
of course, dying scares me, as do the dead.
I see them daily. Passing from kiosk to kiosk,
jobless cordobeses shake their heads as men
and women on the screen jump from windows.
They expect a reaction from me, a descendent
of those buried under the holy, corporate rubble;
I hail as a messenger from the north, the
Big Fist in the Sky, I should pronounce. Light
should then emanate from my body's perimeter.
Be not scared of me; be not blinded by me. Instead,
I nudge my coins over the counter in exchange
for a cigarette. I say I'm Canadian. Survival is
something I've been forced to perfect. You've made
it a game almost, donning me and all your children
as objects of the world's mad obsession. But, to
be truthful, I don't expect their pity; I don't
expect their pity despite your fall. Because
every time they learn that it was you who created
me in the image of red-white-and-blue You,
they shudder, and I hate you for that.

Notes
Remiseros: In Argentina, taxis are called remises, and those who drive them are called remiseros.
Castigo, ¡que puta!: Retribution, what a bitch!
Río Suquía: A river that runs through the city of Córdoba, Argentina.
Cordobeses: People from the Argentine province of Córdoba.

copyright 2004 Jada Ach