about the old times and the women they will know, Mariquita
the girls in the dreams of--the when they will be men.
Fish, they sell
what they can, what is caught, what they hold in their arms
for the day.
The Chileo boys pull their feet by the strings through the dirt
confusing themselves in the inside-jungle with sons and fathers,
halfway out into the years that have been and will be,
not different, not different, they say, not different from you.