Of course it was me!
I,
Pow!
Hit
that curve ball
like
an ace
y la pelota
“¡Se va, se va, y se fue…
despidala
con un beso!”
My
dinger caught
by
the window.
No
rounding the bases
stomping
home plate
with
a victory dance.
I
knew what the call would be
didn’t
want to be caught looking
dropped
the bat and took cover
from
the spanking.
No
home run delight
just
stinging, tingling butt cheeks
never
lingered
longer
than cold Cali nights.
Pinche
window, damn!
Too
infested with decay,
hollowed
out by bugs
Landlord
too, void to
bother
with the damn
window,
with tenants’ complaints.
He
don’t care about our jams,
sordo
like a ref
to
Lasorda’s gripes.
Night
breeze nipping at
exposed
flesh; feet, face,
ears
and lips chaffed and numbed.
Landlord
gets the good ole’ Bronx cheer!
Poor
immigrants
living
in poor Compton
no
central heating, no tenants’ rights,
what
a yard we live in.
My
home run-
a
curse.
Now
have to wear slipper-socks
to
bed and wake up
with
sweaty and wrinkled feet
early
morning trips to pee hurt,
hardwood
floor cold dry ice
on
sleepy, damp, numb feet.
Stupid
window!
I
sit on the toilet
surrounded
by morning chill
warmed
by daydreams
of
winning a lottery prize
La
loteria!
big
enough to buy
my family
a house
no
barred windows
no
heavy metal
door feeling like a bullpen.
door feeling like a bullpen.
A
house with
A
bedroom for each one
my
mom, my sisters and me,
and
a big green throw
of
a backyard
big
as a field
where
my home runs
can
freely
line
drive….
roam
as
I pump my fist
like
Kirk Gibson
rounding
the bases.
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