A Miracle on How to Live in this World

 

Life on the street in San Quintin, Mexico is hard.

There are too many cars, trucks and machines for love and safety.

 

Blowing dust behind the buses from broken mufflers

Then there are the billboards

of objectified women

and the animal flesh

junk food, carne asada,

strawberry flavored, or smoked, or salted, or baked

legs or ribs

whole bodies from the butcher’s shop.

My sadness for the women, children, and animals,

starts again,

as I sit at a blinking red traffic light.

Stop, go, stop, blinking red.

 

Then, out of nowhere,

a small, dirty, street dog

carefree

with matted, yellow hair

tangled

from our troubled world

trots into traffic

with a stuffed animal in his mouth

of all things

a stuffed animal

oblivious of the apocalypse on earth.

Bad timing I think.

There’s nothing I can do.

He’s a goner I think.

Crossing the busy street

without a care in the world

following the 5 o’clock church bells.

Time stands still.

Movement ceases.

Blinking red

A path clears

A distant bell

a sound, only dogs can hear,

or is it the protection of the stuffed animal

dangling from his mouth?

 

Safely to the other side of the street,

A miracle on how to live in this world

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