The Mexican Cabdriver

We were sitting in traffic
on the Brooklyn Bridge,
so I asked the poets
in the backseat of my cab
to write a poem for you.
They asked
if you are like the moon
or the trees.
I said no,
she is like the bridge
when there is so much traffic
I have time
to watch the boats
on the river.

From A MAYAN ASTRONOMER IN HELL'S KITCHEN (W.W. Norton, 2000)

 

Poems by Martín Espada

Thanksgiving

The Mexican Cabdriver

Two Mexicanos Lynched in Santa Cruz, California, May 3, 1877