Dreaming Freedom

In my dream I drive
a ’67 Impala
the color of pearls and moonlight

alas de colibrí hand painted by maestro Ochoa

nopales con tunas decorate my roaming license plate

riding shotgun
Neruda and Matilde cuddled tight
up ahead Zapata rode
riding hard kicking up dust
along the border leading our way
in the rearview mirror
I see Jesucristo
sitting between Lakshmi y Frida
I make eye contact with all three
if only the world could see
how we really do get along
us all life seekers
of unconditional love
we need no words when sensing unison
rage against the machine screaming freedom
on the radio

tingling cool desert air
we nod and smile into the unknown

reaching out together in prayers
for women and children

hummingbirds struggling to fly
locked in cages
we cruise through border patrol
all neon green and hefty cowboy hats
spitting brown sacred tobacco
while waiting Americans eager
shove out passports to prove
they aren’t those Mexicans
trying to cross secure borders
Frida breaks out the war paint
and I feel Jesucristos
gentle hand on my shoulder

reaching past me
turning up the volume
of freedom.

c/s