Lie next to me motionless till the sun goes down, make no sound, merely feel my matted hair drying against your face . Tear that fish open with your teeth. Taste it, and the mud you both came from. Let the mud back into yourself, acknowledge the mud already in you. Little milagros erupt from it spontaneously, a plague of blessings, small miracles all over your cheeks and forehead .
Miracles love the mud, for in mud anything can happen.
My boat reaches the far shore. Jitney drivers clamor for my trade. I opt to walk in the cool spring night, a ringing in my ears. Around me stream people of all colors, voices of many accents. This is what I am.