In the square at Ixlawacan,
Where the earwigs fabricated
Gatherings upon the gazebo ceiling,
Where white-panchoed Mexicans
Tapered decorations from the fountain
Outward to the trees surrounding
The plaza for the fiesta, while Americans
Showed The Jesus Film in Spanish
On an overhead projector
Just across the dirty street
From the spaceship that played
A strange music we never forgot
And gave rides for a peso,
The drunk, familiar stranger
That passed in rumors among
The Americans, talking between
A boy and a girl,
Looked into her oyster eyes
And asked, in English as fluent
As a whiskeyed southerner,
"Is 'e yur boyfrind?"
And she blushed and looked
At the boy who looked back,
Evasive eye to evasive eye,
"No, we're just friends," she said
Upon the platter of the following silence
That intruded like the fluttering
Of many cockroaches.
"We're just friends," the boy affirmed.
"We're only friends."