Summer Heat in Tijuana

Hours suffered in stagnant air— a chilate glaze collects beneath my trembling legs. I’m numb. My pasty forehead pressed to the crack frantically searching for anyone to flicker past. Nobody! Minutes from final boarding and leaving Mexico seems hopeless while finding fucking toilet paper impossible. I should’ve listened to Mother.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "All Aboard" - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -