2nd Generation

A culture I’ve been born into

but never really knew.

I’m reminded of being different,

not quite what I should be,

as they speak words

I don’t know

and want customs

I barely understand.

But I would never call myself “American”

and yet my lack of otherness,

of inherent culture,

makes me more American than the

Flag in their eyes.

I cringe at their smiles

and stunted English

because it is my lack of

that makes me the outsider

in this diverse country.

Finding Clothes the Next Day

noiseless stirring,

an arm here, a leg there,

leisurely moving around

to soft huffs

and quiet murmurs.

a silent shift, to roll off the bed,

muted tip-toes to

speckled piles of fabric on the floor.

a dress here, tights there,

ceremonially picking up

the aftermaths of last night.

 

Jolly Rancher

Sweet.

Sticky-sweet, that coats the tip of my tongue.

Syrupy sugar and

Sickeningly saccharine,

Cloyingly making me want more.

Knowing the more I take,

the more I want,

the less I’ll have in the end.

 

La Vida Pura

I catch your small smile,

You try to hide it from me

but the music makes you bold

and the chorus makes you loud,

We jump to the beat and I

purposely brush your wrist.

 

Now you’re screaming with the crowd

My one in a million

in a sea of like-minded people

Who just want to jam to good music.

The energy in my veins

Makes me braver and braver

 

Within a sea of like-minded people

I bring you close and tell you my heart

You smile, one-hundred watts,

and gift me with your eager lips.

Viva! Viva!

We’re alive!