pale curls of dried molasses shaped like the tops of ionic columns salt scrim shingle drying on ropes of fish there where the air is a sheaf of dried tobacco there statues of saints go walking in the dark spit shines a shoe of cracked leather a brass buckle curved like the moon your ancestors crossed rivers to exchange one history for another sometimes they found the gods they were looking for sometimes they blinked wondering how they got there * Ilocano: to drift, to wander