For the Day of the Dead Shop windows are adornedwith papier-mâché skeletons,some in cowboy hats, some with crowns,Behind glass, slumped together,they look like drunkards at the endof a party. Soon enough,they’ll join the paradewith Catrinas bearing flowersand blasting, bellowing,mariachi bands.Their showy heads,ritualized out of all horror,will jiggle on springsas their loose limbs scuttle and prance. These are not the deaddiscovered suffocatedin a juiceless van in the desert.Nor the dead riddled withgangland bullets,piled atop each otherin a ditch. These aren’t the […]
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