~J. L. TORRES~

LEGACY

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I see the Pava flag waving.
Fanatics yelling fuego popular, 
and I am frightened.
The rain taps the roof;
serenades me back to sleep.
Mama Julia's eyes attempt
to console me behind
thick glasses and beer-soaked sighs.
Tio's rocking leg is my horse.
I ride it till sundown before
red clay gobbles up my tiny legs.
Everyone laughs when I speak
make-believe English right before
the plane cranks its four propellers.
I see them whirl,
blur everything but what remains,
a trail of mist and rain.

 
 

© by J.L. Torres