guided by voices

at cock's first crowing i'd leave my wooden floor bamboo wall bungalow and walk down a gravel
red dirt pathway that leads to the seaside food houses where one dollar buys a bowl of congee thickened with chunks of squid and raw egg yolk

the ocean air would smell of burning wood, clove cigarettes and the occassional whiff of diesel engine exhaust. that same air carried the highs and lows of elongated vowels and guttural consonants of boatboys, fishermen, and girls and women of various ages and styles of dress

the swirl of chaos calm then chaos again sometimes induced a feeling of being guided by voices....  

i decide to walk on wall street rather than main as it's quieter and residential. at the corner of
fourty eighth a shrine of votive candles surrounds a telephone pole. on it is nailed a large piece of white cardboard with a taped on photo of an embracing young couple. above the picture is written "brenda and juan - true love forever" and "mi hija mi corazon - snookie", and printed beneath
the girl "4/22/87 - 4/27/08" and the boy "3/12/88 - 4/27/08"

a short dark middle aged woman pushing a shopping cart half full of avocados and oranges stops and frowns at the display. i say "buenas dias" then point at the shrine "que paso?" shaping her right hand like a gun and placing it against her head she says "asesinato!" then continues on her way

a long circuitous route later i'm seated on my front porch with a styrofoam cup of atole de maiz livened up with cilantro, lime juice and tampico sauce. felix, a neighbor who ministers to imprisoned youth on weekends, cheerfully shouts "how's the good lord treating you this beautiful morning" as he passes carrying several plastic bags of groceries

the house just west of his recently had a four foot concrete wall put up. it was slowly constructed by two neat older men who covered the wall inside and out with shiny decorative tile. either fine tilework is exceedingly simple or these gentlemen are true masters of the craft