6 June 2005

This magnificent mall,
elegant architecture within curved walls,
Is crowded on a Sunday afternoon,
a world unto itself,
The sounds of the world beyond gone now,
blocked by massive walls.

Costa Ricans, young and old,
cashiers, customers, servers, and security guards,
Wandering Los Ticos, titillated by the
sights and sounds,
Of a commercial world order,
penetrating from the North.

Bright lights glinting from display arrangements,
projecting electric images,
And digital music videos,
of jewelry, glamour, clothing,
Sexuality and cosmetics,
tastefully displayed,
And carefully arranged,
to evoke a world,
Imagined in the minds of Los Ticos,
of sensuality, luxury, and taste.

While their Nicaraguan neighbors,
cry out in a poverty unimagined,
Unheard from hunger’s hell,
and the electric screams,
Of their cousins in Columbia,
cattle prods on testicles,
Penetrating from the North,
fade into silence beyond the walls,
Of this magnificent, Costa Rican mall.

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