America?

Ten days in a sleazy border town in Mexico is not so outrageous. At times it can be rowdy, even a bit feral. But far from an exotic location. Although, It did strike me with a mood, the atmosphere and tone of Mexico sticks inside your eyelids. I wrote more in those ten days then I have in the last few months, my mind was ripe with ideas and I think Mexico is to blame. When you can't understand most things you read or see, you must follow other lines of logic. Your forced to look deeper into what people may be speaking or doing. I think fear plays a part, your told not to walk into certain districts that are said to be unsafe for tourist, so you walk as close as you can, a street or so away and look as far as you can, in hope of seeing something sinister. You’re always watching your back. Thinking about people this way does dreadful things to your mind.

I loved walking the streets with my I-pod, The Clash, The Rolling Stones, Starflyer 59, Johnny Cash, Buck Owens, and Jeff Buckley, all giving to the ambiance of the city. I was getting my cowboy boots shined one morning; I-pod playing Bright Eyes ‘first day of my life’. The world was playing tricks on me. I could see two men with coffee waiting on a city bus, a girl who looked like my Spanish sister smoking a cigarette, taking small drags like she only had one lung. A dog was running in traffic, horns may have been honking, I can't say for certain my ears had music covering them. A boy, no older then six, handed me a news paper and I looked at the front page, there was a photo of people drinking wine, that was all I could understand, so I sat the paper down, reached in my pocket for five pesos. Then the song slowed down and alleged ‘I’d rather be working for a pay check, then waiting to win the lottery. Besides, maybe this time is different, I really think you like me.’ A few pigeons landed next to the shoeshine man, who stopped in mid-shine, grabbed a handful of seed from a halved mild jug. His hands were black and fat, his face was round like he had more Indian than Spanish. He was missing teeth but smiled like no one ever told him. When he was done the song was Iron & Wine; "Red Dust." I paid three dollars(US)for the best shoeshine I’ve ever been given. He asked me, “Where are you from?” I could not hear him, so I turned the music down, he asked again, “Were are you from?”
“Oh, I'm from America,” I said.
“America?” Said the shoeshine man.