Fire-eater, Mexico City

Look, Jesus-Ernesto
is going to work.

His toolkit:
a straight hardwood stick,
rag-bound at one end;
a Ronson lighter; money-pail,
two cans of gasoline

which he carries
in two old side-panniers,
pail on handlebars
from 'Cartolandia'
(Cardboard Town)
to the old stone city heart.

His expertise: to know
where the traffic-lights
are red the longest, where
the shops are busiest, where
his audience has time
to watch and pay.

Procedure:
pour gasoline, just enough -
he knows how much will last
from morning rush till evening -
light the rag-head, hold the stick
with a performer’s gesture, high,
tilt the head back
and taste the flame.

Again, again.

A few coins rattle.

At twelve
a cafe-owner brings him ice.

At six or sooner
he packs his apparatus,
cycles home. His breath
is noisy, like a snore.

He saw a doctor once
who squinted at his throat.
After the tourist summer
he may afford
some medicine.

Look, his wife Alicia
is making tortas.