para mi primos y primas
for those of you who think that Texas is our Promise Land
i want you to remember that San Antonio
(although it has a holy name)
is no Jerusalem—Austin is damn close
but still far enough away for us to miss out
Michigan is your Egypt but you have no Moses:
who will lead you from your enslavement,
courtesy of Roger Smith and John Engler?
we've had our plagues of pink slips
and rosary beads that run on ethanol,
but this will not lead us to the Promise Land—
twenty-two hours down I-75
and just a little off to the left.
the Rio Grande is not the Jordan—
though our waters are more blessed
because they carry the hopes and blessings
from Mexico—we all know Tejas is damn close
but it's still no Gift from God:
it's merely a Motrin—a way for you all to forget
about the children you too-soon bore here
and your dying factories and bodies.
Texas is not the Eucharist—it is an aspirin.