The Big Walk

We do the procession through downtown's decrepit streets
of mansions done melting back into adobe. The time is passed
when parasol ladies strolled and gentlemen tilted their hats.
Likewise,is gone the time before, when our long breasted girls
wore no brassieres, when the Americas discovered
the terribly, awful Europeans.

We do the pilgrim's walk
passing habitats on stilts standing rickety by creeks,
flushed with recyclables and shanty waste.
We pass toilet facilities rented out to the pilgrimage.
We hundreds of thousands in the uphill march,
our forehead vapors evaporate into the clouds.

Lightning flashes. Rain descends.
At day's end, we reach the sacred place
where Virgin Mother appeared to humble girl
gathering kindling by a brook.
Without faith, you cannot live.
Without water, you cannot survive.