Cloud Nine From a Mexican Child

Lazily spent afternoons on the pea green sofa Watching TV novella’s with Nana Eating searing salsa with tamales And homemade tortillas with mantiquilla Dripping from the cylinder of cloud nine Belly protruding from a too small shirt The smell of Fantastica on a newly mopped floor Tata sitting in the chair by the patio The screen door crazily hinged Sombrero tilted over his face To hide his laughing eyes Crinkled with age and delight Too worn for wear despite His young heart Tias running about on Friday night Eager to play High heels clicking on the linoleum tiles Long dark hair flowing from streamers of love Trickling to curls on their way out While the little ones sit Admiring the beauty Of the desire to be noticed Perfume enticing the boys next door