The Sante Fe Street Bridge 1980s

We approach the Santa Fe Street Bridge in the dazzlingly sunshine,
From the black iron grillwork on the sides of the bridge extend a dozen scrawny arms Palm up
In hopes of some last shocked generosity before we scurry back to the safety and forgetfulness of El Paso.
We clutch our bags of booze, trinkets and gaudy mementos of Juarez.
Tonight, long after we are asleep, the night visitors will descend on Juarez
Like jackals and vultures to pluck out the last juicy pieces left
Before the morning sun begins again to bake the carcass across the river.
So much misery and spite so close cannot be bridged only by the Santa Fe Street Bridge.
One day
They will
Just walk across.