A real experience of magical realism, anyone? This actually is a true story of what happened to me some years back in Tijuana, Mexico. Some time following, I wrote this poem:

THE VISION

It happened in Tijuana
When I took the train down from San Diego
On the day off from my publishing meeting.

It was a cold, winter day and I wore only a light sweater.
After an hour of walking the narrow streets of Tijuana
Where vendors sold everything to tourists,
From leather jackets, peanuts and piñatas,
To ladies jeweled dresses and maracas
I began to feel feverish.

A few more minutes of walking
And I knew I had to act fast.
As a first step I bought
A wool red and white poncho
From a street vendor and asked him for the location
Of a church.
I figured a church was a good place to lie down,
And Mexico being a strong Catholic country
Would have many churches.
I wasn’t wrong.
The Mexican vendor pointed to the next street
And told me to turn right and go down three blocks.

Being Thursday I thought I’d have
The church all to myself.
Boy, was I wrong.
The church was jammed packed.
Mexicans not only filling the pews,
But Mexicans
Standing tight together all over the place.
Well, I had a fever and had to do what I had to do.
I squeezed through the crowd
Until my back was against a pillar.
I slid down the pillar so
My rump was on the floor,
Knees to my chest, back and head
Resting against the pillar.

Instantly I fell asleep.
After what must have been an hour
Covered in sweat, I slowly started coming out of sleep,
And could feel my fever breaking.
Still with my eyes closed and still mostly asleep,
I could hear singing
Sounding like the voices of angels.
I was so disoriented I thought I passed from my body.
So this is what the afterlife is like, I thought.
Still with my eyes closed
I saw the vision of a glowing goddess angel
Framed by angelic singing.

Slowly, very slowly, I started to open my eyes.
I could see the back of many legs.
I looked up and saw a white and gold ceiling.
It all came back to me:
I didn’t die after all,
I had a fever,
I entered this jam packed Mexican church.
I squeezed my way to this pillar,
I sat down and fell asleep.

I remained sitting.
Still listening to the music, remembering my
Vision of the gold and white goddess angel.

It felt good to sit and rest.
I couldn’t get over the packed Mexican church
On Thursday!
Mexican teenagers on their tiptoes,
Straining to get a glimpse of the priest;
Smiling, well-dressed young men handing out programs.
Men and woman packed next to one another.
And everybody so excited. What is all this?

After I rested some more,
I made my way to my feet and squeezed back
Out of the church and walked back down the street
To where I bought the poncho.
I asked the Mexican vendor
Why the church was so packed.
He said, “Today is a big celebration;
Today is the day the Virgin Mary
Appeared in Mexico
Today is the day of Our Lady of Guadalupe.”

I used my head and didn’t tell him about my vision.
For I reasoned that if I did all those excited Mexicans
Might nail me to a cross and parade me
Through their narrow streets,
Me of all people, a goofy non-Catholic gringo tourist,
Having a clear, ecstatic vision
Of their Lady of Guadalupe.