From Vibrant Colors, Bipolar Weather, and Alligators

by Lianne Martinez Bullain

 

I am from cisterns to drink and bathe
only later having scented clothes,
no longer worn for three days straight.
From plants placed meticulously at each corner
verdant and minty, roots traveling towards the carpet
securing a lasting smell of soil.
I’m from dominoes y bolas, that help pass time
creating fights and laughter from
Tia Nairobys and Primo Tico who shared
their competitiveness.
I’m from the bring-it-ons
and the let-it-goes,
from mom yelling eat faster and you’re eating too fast!
downing icy water to clear the passage.
I’m from thunderstorms and heatwaves,
soaking wet only to be dry and sticky
moments later.
I am from the mud at my abuelo’s farm
where pigs rolled happily
splashing slob over my all-white outfit.
From my mother who got married at sixteen
and her albums stashed in a corner collecting dust,
neatly preserving the memories of childhood.
Some capture red, blue, and yellow Ford Fairlanes
that drive past teal and banana colored homes,
and the man that sells Chupa Chups in the corner where we hand over pesos.
Others show a grim look while we go shopping under the roasting sun
as Tia Zulema buys piles of clothes,
angry that I favor the green abandoned
monkey sweater found on the alligator roads.

 

 

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