riot police huddled on a side street,
wide-eyed fresh scrubbed faces
wrapped in kevlar and plexiglass.
the ancient aztec woman blows smoke
of copal in your face, every step a benidicion
in this city sinking into the earth.
looking down on calle moneda,
sunlight so bright and clear
through the eyes of a young cat.
sitting now in the still, espacio infinitum
of a leaning edifice, heaven above
the stones carved by untold hands.
symbols jumping across the distance
of time brand themselves on skin,
always, but never quite making the leap.
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