I met a big, burly fellow the other
day as he emerged
from the pool.
He was in town for a big party.
He’s from a rural community in Texas
but he used to live in Tucson and started out in
Phoenix, a senior citizen’s lifetime ago.
After a few introductory remarks,
he launched into a diatribe against the dysfunctional
government and how all things in general are
crappy and how all the empty milk jugs are littering
the South Texas/South Arizona landscape
marring the beauty of the land. I wondered, as he
emerged from the refreshing waters of the pool,
if he thought about the beauty of the water
that had been in those jugs to keep people who
crossed the border in the searing heat alive.
The jugs will be picked up; some will be recycled —
perhaps some made into art in a grade school project.
The landscape remains beautiful with or without
the jugs. People survive. From the hot tub, as the
water swirled around me and as the water dripped
from the suit encompassing his ample girth, I
wished the fellow well.