At the beginning of her last month
At her request, I took her to Tijuana
In a last desperate attempt to kill
The runaway cells that were filling her lungs.
We landed and got in a van with some others
And took a circuitous route finally through a tunnel
Under a rail berm,
Bypassing the border checkpoint into that city.
Paying the $250 fee, she went in for
A coffee enema. I think that was it.
I sat in this office with a smooth guy
Who said he was so sorry he couldn’t do more for her.
I was looking out the window at this fountain
With cracked concrete showing rebar and chicken wire,
And said, “you’re a fucking jackal.”
The trip back was the reverse of the one coming.
We were almost too late for the flight back.
I ran ahead to get them to hold, and got the feeling
They had seen this before.
She came slowly, thin, with a scarf covering her head,
Bald from the chemo. She smiled at us,
Giving a flash of her once great beauty.
This is how I remember her.