ABSTRACT
My mother—who has a son who will die before her—will say, "Well, son, you could go across the street and a bus will hit you, or a brick will come down from the roof and will kill you. " And I say, "Mother, I wish that happened to me. They sell us a ticket and I have the ticket, you don't have it. " To me, 1 see AIDS as a jail and as a death row. Everyday, when I have a cough or a fever, they call and say, "Mr. Mesa, we will execute you tonight. "And when I have a fever, they sit me in the chair with all the cables. Then the executioner says, "Sorry Mr. Mesa, it's not working today. You have to go back to your room. " That's the difference. It's like, you know. . . I wish it was tonight, but then tonight doesn't happen. It's a ticket, and that ticket is not returnable. I cannot say to you, [gestures with outstretched hand], "Can you have this ticket back please and give me my money?" That's what I try to make my mother understand.
