A ROOM AT THE END OF THE EARTH

I enter my new life

with a wealth of ideas

instead of money and clothing.

I have a place to stay, and I’m given a job

at a newspaper, but I feel so timid

each time I’m surrounded

by wealthy men

who think of me

as a poor indio.

Is envy part of the problem?

Does the fame that precedes me

lead them to expect someone who looks

powerful, wearing the latest fashions

from Paris, and writing in a more

conventional style?