Working the Line
Working the Line (the Mexican) Sitting on a street corner South of the border His house many miles south Looking for something to eat Anything to put in his mouth Gone are the days of trabajo Sweat pouring from his brow From building the supermercado To the days of skinning a cow (the American) Well north of the border An American sits on a bench Unable to pay his child support order His fists beginning to clench Let go from the factory Whose chimneys continue to steam Replaced by cheap labor By those chasing the American dream (the laborer) Knowing they think I come cheap I sit on this corner still resolute Across the border are riches to reap Such are the wages of this dispute (the disillusioned) I traded a bar stool for this old park bench With the flurries of November starting to swirl I can live with my girl if needed in a pinch Consternation abounds in this socialized world My beat up old Ford now transports fifteen illegals Be they landscap