Psychopomp Magazine Summer 2014 - Page 17

Robert Morgan Fisher

Burrito

After the disgrace of Immaculada, Cruz issues an ultimatum.

“Next stop: glue factory. I am serious.”

I know he is serious. I can be melted down for quick cash. The rendering in Nuevo Laredo takes place at a plant down the road. The smell haunts my days when the wind shifts from the south.

The new girl is Felipa. She is from Vallecillo, a tourist town on the way to Sabinas Hidalgo. Long ago, I used to pull a cart between those two places. I miss the road. Felipa did not come here for this work, it was not her dream. This is not a career one plans and hopes for. When jumping the border fence fails, a girl often stumbles backwards into this place. Felipa has big teeth like mine and a rose in her hair which I lust after.

Immaculada tells Felipa about how I am circling the drain on the killing floor. Cruz makes glue factory jokes. Immaculada laughs and rubs the crotch of Cruz.

I find apples, carrots, and peanuts in my feedbag. Felipa winks. I take my time, savoring. The man-crowd has boiled into a liquored frenzy. A few naked girls prance out to tease, but what the hombres really want is Burrito. Not even in Tijuana do they have a spectacle like this. Even though this kind of show is most often associated with that place, it is a myth. If you go to Tijuana in search of this, I promise you will be disappointed. Some say it is an abomination for a woman to lay with Burrito like this, but to perform onstage is a special calling. A job I wish to keep. All peripheral performers enforce a sacred contract with the world.

I am carried out by Cruz and three strong men. I am placed on my back, held down. The crowd is a thousand car horns bleating for me to get on with it. Felipa does her level best but it is no good. Once again I cannot rise to the occasion. I see the killing floor. She covers me with her body, fakes everything. There is booing. Bottles bounce off chicken wire.

I bray. I cry. They lead me back to my stall. Cruz kicks and curses. I want to shout: I am not a beast of the field! But I know what I am.

Cruz is not moved.

Robert Morgan Fisher | 13