In Honor Of Bad Poetry
On the bus there was a thief
Looking for a gun
Across from him there was a dude
Nodding in the sun
I just sat and tried to hide
A gringo on a long long ride
Trying to get to the other side
Desperate as the road was wide.
They say that Mexico hasn’t changed
Everywhere we’re all the same
You take your chances
You stake your claim
But on that bus when the sun went down
One lonesome gringo had finally found
The toll road was a price too dear
When alone with a gringo’s fear
Of capture in another land
By a hungry heart
And an angry hand.
The frontier’s traffic
Join the line and keep your place
A serious business wears a serious face
Don’t play games with the border guards
Crossing used to be easy
Now its way way hard.
And across at last
Take a breath
Another escape from imagined death
The romantics vision almost gone
Of the wondrous Mexico
Sung in song
I’ll love this place till the day I die
The danger and freedom
All the way to the sky
But who yearns for the boredom
That order brings.
The fire contained
In a fire ring.
By William Franklin