"East of Tecate" by Author Jennifer Arnett

There was the muddy street, buses rocking and rolling,the wheels squealing, the dirt and disposable objects spraying into the air.

The milk bottles, the familiar Coke cans, the Doritos that taste like Doritos, but have a funny shape and foreign words.

The garage door dealers, the houses next door made out of doors.

The perpetually open doors, the dirt floors, the rooms with only a dusty mattress, the rainbow llama hair blankets, the laundry hanging on the wires, the red Nike shorts, the "Los Angeles Marathon 1994" shirt, and the American Eagle socks.

The limping dog that crosses your path, that you want to take home but you can't sneak it into your luggage, the can of beans he is sniffing, the blood dripping from his cut tongue, his whimper as a black truck steers towards him to miss a sewage infested mud puddle.

The floating Mickey Mouse doll with a missing black ear, the bent barbed wire fence, the soon to be slaughtered cow chewing on grass, the sizzling taco stand, the tomatoes, the cheese, and the mystery meat.

The corn tortillas, the smoke drifting up towards the mountains, the rocks so rugged, the musical wind, the lyrics found in the voices that drift from a one roomed church.

The worn down theater chairs, the dark cross on the pure white wall, the endless clapping, the tingling of your sore palms, the skirts that sway in 8 count beats.

The impossible inflections, the off-key voice that always seems to be louder than everybody else. The healed widow, the restored orphan, the old man who can now stand up straight.

The Yamaha guitar with the sixth E string, broken and coiling around the neck, the pick-less hand, the carpel tunnel, the desperate limbs raised, the tears falling, the feet tapping.

The window open, the weight of the air, the ascension of body heat, the elbows bumping, the closed eyes, the darkness, the marvelous light.

The woman in the doorway,

her body slumped forward on her knees,

her palms turned upward,

her inward groans,

her submission,

her redemption,

her provision,

her restoration,

and the white dove landing on her shoulder,

that no one saw,

on an empty street,

somewhere east of Tecate.