Summer storm
pours onto the road
nearly obscuring
the chrome encrusted pickup
the faded blue car
with the newly dented fender.
A woman stands
weeping
tears and rain
slide from her face
a man rages with his arms
stabs the air
with his anger, then climbs in his truck
and roars away.
As traffic edges forward
a hand reaches out
“Para ti,” he says,
“for you”
a black umbrella
slender shelter
from knives of words.
Cathy Lewis travelled widely in Mexico and lived in the town of Ajijic, Jalisco, for two years. She received a B.A. from Pitzer College, an M.A. from the Claremont Graduate University and a J.D. from the University of Denver. Four years ago, she moved from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to the mountains outside of Hendersonville, North Carolina.
About Street Court—This poem has its roots in Oaxaca, a beautiful and challenging city that was my introduction to living in Mexico. It is part of a collection that begins with
a simple epigraph:“journey without regret.” This poem reflects one day from that journey.
