No Dreams Through El Salvador Poem by Timmy Curran

Empty pockets, a bottomless abyss
stomach wailing, next to the
cheri, I sit, a hot tamalee,
a plate of beans, a soothing
cigarette is what I need
The van rides rickety, but
inside all is still, they
sleep through El Salvador as
to pass it as a dream, the
thoughts of a murder scene
passing calm and serene as
the red of the sunrise glimmers
on the jungles greens
Sleep my beauty, sleep one and all
The express to Leon,
takes us deeper than we have ever known