Folded in a desert basement, I am suddenly overwhelmed by the necessity of being perceived by everyone at once, when all humanity witnesses me and smirks like proud parents of an only child. With no job to respect me, no justification follows--The dispossessed; they are not afraid of my condition, not suspicious of cheap pills expanding like spray foam in the stomach of the true utilitarian. Hecho en Mexico, the lady drinks a Filthy Jalapeño Martini in the bathroom near the border, where this life is legal if you have a curly blonde wig and manicured hands. She rubs muddy-rose stripes up my cheeks. I smile, say I love the colors and thank her for taking the time. Unconcerned with my impression on the world, I leave the ladies' room in disguise. Still innocent by birth, I trip over a loose saltillo tile in the floor. Yes, abandoning my only friend in the moment, this is what I've become--an accomplice dropped from a higher leaf, or is this my home?