men with an oozing bellies
calm fighting roosters
water boiled by fire, pours
to a plastic bucket
duck eggs, grilled corn, peanuts
hot, salted by hand
flapping tarps and bright umbrellas
wet school shoes
sirens sounds, and shredded traffic
a small boy takes my hand
on the street today.
Maybe one day, many years from now, maybe I’ll read this poem again and remember navigating the traffic and crowds of inner-city Lapaz — with small son in his school uniform gently holding my hand.