In a Tex-Mex restaurant. His coworkers,
unable to utter his name, renamed him Jalapeno.
If I ask for a goldfish, he spits a glob of phlegm
into a jar of water. The silver letters
on his black belt spell Sangron. once, borracho,
at dinner, he said: Jesus wasn't a snowman.
Arriba Durango, Arriba Orizaba. Packed
into a car trunk, he was smuggled into the States.
[...]
Oddly fragrant: wood smoke, lilac. He's an illegal.
I'm an Illegal-American.