The scent of detergent, rice and roses,
tables set with platters of melon like a banner-
green, orange, red and yellow,
so cold and sweet for the niños
in their patent mary janes and
princess dresses pastel pink and blue and
little button down shirts with gelled hair

tamarind spoons
next to the cerveza
next to the limas
next to the salsa
next to the tortillas and
Myrna can’t make them fast enough

and the sound of women speaking quickly
in the kitchen
and with passion, with laughter
and tears always pushing their tongues to their teeth-
pulling their blushing cheeks and
full lips to smile
always suggesting a kiss
and their bodies so soft and warm

Ranchero music in the evening and men whose voices rise with the moon like coyotes so bold and overworked,
so lusty and hungry with easy smiles
that feature silver crowns and
watery eyes in which
violent secrets are kept and cloaked in crow’s feet and never told.

popcorn with lime juice and tajin
layers of make up and lotion
and big hoop earrings
an ocean of hair so long, dark and lovely
which carries a scent so intoxicating that
you wish you could drown in it,

Say what you want to say but
Arizona is a place in Mexico
where white people stay.


4 thoughts on “Arizona

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