Jesus Lives Across The Border Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

doodled on black velvet or
recycled-petroleum-tin-cans
and if you don't believe me,
walk across the border where
Jesus Hates It When You Smoke.

To prove it, see sidewalks lined with
ashtrays ringed with crowns of thorns,
weeping eyes and Dia de los Muertos
mini-calaveras in evening gowns,
Mohawks and cigarillos in sanguine-hot lips.

Another shows a girl on her knees,
hands cuffed behind her,
with spit-shined jackboots.
I mean motorcycle-cop-boots
framing her sex-elated face.

Soon I'll see her crucified
in the style of Kahlo with smoke
coming from between her thighs
and people will pray and cry,
It's un milagro, a miracle, es un milagro.