We’re in the spinach capital of the world

10,000 cans a day

a statue of Popeye in town square

I stand at the edge of camp and touch Mexico

We do what all kids do

              who are fenced in

where the desert light doesn’t end

and flies swarm the mouth of the horse

border patrol sits on

watching us

We find one another

             hold each other’s faces

then drown

in the scent of orange blossoms

In the seventh month of camp, we hide

in the afternoon shade. Tree branches

block the Texas sun from dogpiling

onto our faces. We’ve snuck here

twice before, Edison and I, to where

the guards can’t find us. We lay

on our backs, looking up at oranges.

I pick one and behind it hang a hundred more.

I pick enough to fill a boat

I sail into the Pacific away from the smell

of my neighbor’s back sweat. We place a peel

into our mouths and smile. I mumble

about a puzzle I left unfinished in Seattle.

We return to our barracks. Smell of oranges. 

The neighbor kids talk about the tanks at Tule Lake

             where their cousins were taken

The moment isn’t right but I tell them anyway

             I miss chocolate milkshakes!

Frosted glass        water rings        how it leaves part

             of itself behind when I pick it up

There was enough snow in Minidoka to make

             thousands of them        thousands

It’s nightfall I order from whoever is listening

             the horned toad             the air

the dust Edison shook from his hair outside

             floating into the barrack

On the radio          an announcement

             another Japanese submarine sunk