Meditations On The South Valley, Part 23

Pancho, the barrio idiot. Rumor is that una bruja from Bernalillo le embrujo. Unshaven, chattering and nodding to airy friends that follow him, he roams the barrio all day. I see him at least twice a day— walking on the ditch behind my house, hours later walking across the bridge. Harmless, la gente leave him alone in his own fantasies, to share his bread with invisible companions, to speak back to voices that brim over from his childhood memories. I have seen him on all fours in Raul’s field with the sheep. Or last Christmas in the tree meowing like a cat. You always fill my heart Pancho with delight.