Lonely Planet advised us
about the border.
You cross from Dagabon
into Ounaminthe
venture across the Massacre River.
The people were kind
although the level of poverty
was stunning:
open sewage in the streets
Dry ice at the markets.
There’s poverty in the D.R.
But it’s the kind of poverty
you can laugh about.
At least there’s lush vegetation
And the people actually eat.
I was known as “Blanc”
Or so the children called me.
The border is intense.
The Dominicans open the gates
twice a week to allow
the Haitians to shop Dagabon markets
although many Haitians
are poised at the river
to make a swim for it.
There was a mob of people
at the border gate
and I thought it would be hours.
But Jon-Jon our guide
says no no
and leads us on a path
straight thru the crowds
American passports in tow.
We bypass the line
and the crowds of people
and waltz on through
to the now seeming wealth
of the Dominican Republic.
I guess I couldn’t pass
for Haitian even with
the deepest tan of my life
so I get to cross the border freely.