He stood on the corner ‘cross from the church watchin’ all these Mexicans file inside the wooden doors…it was like they were at a McDonald’s…waitin’ on a Big Mac or a shake…standin’ there with kids clutchin’ the hands of moms and dads…holdin’ on tightly…dressed in blues and whites and pinks and yellows…some girls had flowers in their hair…men held hands with women…he stood there watchin’…

And there were all these pickups in the parkin’ lot…Ford’s…GMC…Dodge Rams…couple of Chevys…painted silver and black…all of em silver and black…with cowboy hats in the front seats…gun racks on the back windows…you could tell they’d all been recently washed…the sun bounced off em all…

As he watched he remembered when his mom and dad took him to Sunday school…a protestant church down South…it was called Locust Bayou…Hell and fury were taught…very little of love…he wondered what lessons were taught at this church…He never went in to find out…he just stood there watchin’…wonderin’…a little girl pointed at him and smiled…he walked away…