It was Spring
we drove the narrow highway
southward from Bisbee to Douglas
near to the Mexican border
The town was poor
there were discount stores
sales and signs written in Spanish
there were silk flower shops
brightly colored bouquets
people carrying funeral arrangements
Many were the words
spoken in Spanish
many the beautiful
brown skinned people
all around the town, and soon we found
that we were quite strange
and oddly, apparently foreign