In 'America' Poem by Robert Rorabeck

What do I know about Mexico:
Tell me about Mexico, Romero—where you are
Born, my favorite uncle:
Tell me how to get past all of the mirages by winged-
Chariot or by airplane
Now that I am married to a girl from shanghai
And the muse I made busied love with
Has gone up to her husband,
Disappearing into Ocala and all of the nights that
She will make love to him:
She passed the Frontera into "America" to get here:
And now she is a beauty and a joy and
In love with the things she cannot see,
But tell me, Romero—off Mexico:
I have seen her underneath the overpasses here,
Skulls with diamonds as blue as the sea—
And the Virgins of Guadalupe doing their laundry
In the grottos and the strip malls beside
7-11: tell me if you can see them, anyways:
Because my eyesight is about as good as my vocabulary,
And I am only hoping to become more innocuous
And it seems to take me longer and longer to
Breathe:
But you know all about Mexico now,
Even long before the sun is even thinking of starting out
To molest the forgotten bones strewn over the
Far side of the mountain—and I have love you niece
A thousand times and once again in my soul—
Another night drinking rum beside the imaginary candlelight
For her, only to have it fail into the curious delusions of
Another day in "America."