all I remember is 2 tequila slammers
and how much the sun hurts my eyes in the aftermath of a Tijuana hangover
I woke up under a bridge, 2 miles south of the border
no money, my shirt, ripped, stained with lipstick
and missing my left shoe
how am I going to explain that to immigration?
it’s 2:30pm and I am way late for work
San Diego glitters on the horizon
in a teasing mirage like a mad man in a desert looking for water
I trade my 40 dollar Casio© watch for a pair of 2 dollar flip-flops
and a “My family went to Tijuana, and all I got was this damn T-shirt” T-shirt
I explain to Border Patrol my situation
they laugh in a way that suggests this sort of thing happens all the time
I jump the trolley at San Ysirdo, without a ticket
make my way back to my National City fake ass apartment
Call my boss, tell him I was mugged in TJ,
and if I could have the rest of the day off
He laughs in a way that suggests this sort of thing happens all the time