jerald newman's blog

9 AM or American Democracy 

New York,

nine A.M

workers searching others,

under the glasses and broken bricks,

mexican woman,

She is searching too,

She knows only a few words in English,

“Pedro i have a dinner for you, My Pedro”

She calls him,

its hard to breath in dust,

especially away from home.

Police officer,

black uniform and sunglasses,

he is searching too,

but he is looking for her,

who was looking for him,

he found the woman,

sitting on the ground,

sobbing,

her tears like rain falls on the dead body,

half woman is she,

officer smiled,

just like Yankees do,

or red Irish men with white teeth.

took her dusty white hands behind her back,

and the head of her,

in the blood pool,

She felt taste of mexican blood…

“You have right not to say anything”

and right to cry?

Sure, thats America,

(democracy darlin’)

Mexico City suburb,

Children are waiting for Mom to come,

she has just arrived home,

and she works as never before,

daily New Pedro and memories about an OLD one,

daughter will become adult soon,

her brother is older,

they will go

to find American Dream

too,

but this time in ruins of,

Empire State Building.