June of 2016

I could never quite forget;

There were too many memories

That happened all at once.

Every morning Abuela would send us

To the little panadería

Where we would buy more bread

For us to make disappear.

“Oh, you are from America!”

A customer behind us would exclaim,

“Such a wealthy country! Tienes suerte!”

But he was only half correct.

Oftentimes I wonder what it would be like

To live a simpler life in Las Palmas,

Where water is not taken for granted

And Sundays spent dancing in the town square.

Oh, how I would dance!

There would be no strangers;

Only countrymen and women

I could easily call my kin.



Mi familia.