national anthology of the best
undergraduate writing 2010

Barbeque Locui


South of the Border, Wesley Laudeman

I

Pig Latin is a romance language.

He is standard, weather‐fickle,

The type who can order

From the cold heart of a catalog.

The type they celebrate,

Body perfect, he belongs in Prague

 

Or Paris, counting pigeons in a sports car.

Waving his defined arms at every busboy,

Garçon, Garçon, send more truffles thataway,

To the petite, piss-and-bleach blonde.

He is careless, tacky.

 

II

October in the upper

Mississippi valley:

He spoke of murder,

With the warmth

Of an Indian summer.

There’s something wrong

With me, he laughs and buries

The bullets at the border

The gun in Canada.