The Exile Harbors the Truth of Thievery in the Soles of His Feet.(Poem)

 
THE EXILE HARBORS THE TRUTH OF THIEVERY 
IN THE SOLES OF HIS FEET 
 
Sam's Mini-Mart, Fresno, CA 
after Martin Espada 
 
   Inside the church of his praying mind 
   inside his shirt, sweat beading in tiny civilizations 
   inside his chest, heart hammering like an officer's giant fist 
   inside the liquor store freezer, confessional of beer drinkers 
 
   an exile from the city of unpaid bills 
   rifles an arm for the cheapest malt liquor in town. 
   At these prices, the exile fills pockets full 
   of discount brew and swaggers past 
   the counter in a coat 
   of beer bottled grenades as the clerk 
   with fingers in a panic guesses …