Actually, this poet feels more like
diced vegetables stir fried in an
iron skillet. I got an Irish grandpa
and a French grandma, and I got
a German grandpa and I got also
a Scottish grandma and who knows
what else. I take on a tossed salad
of identities every hour of the day.
I'm daddy driving my daughter to
day-care, I'm lover in bed at night,
I'm a bad car mechanic, a house
painter, and fair roofer, a son and
a cousin. Like you I'm switchin' my
gears all the time. It's kinda fun
and I don't feel at all lost. In fact
I could use about a hundred more
labels. I'm a little on the bored
side these days. I'm a teacher and
a student, a seller and a buyer.
In my next life I want to come back
as a volcano, or maybe as a dung-
beetle inside Yorick's skull in some
forgotten hamlet. The question is
where would I rather be right now,
taking a walk in an April field or
sitting a Krogers using their WyFy
to type on this borrowed laptop.
My friend the poet Ricardo Sanchez used to rage about the identity term "Hispanic". If he were still with us I'd like to know how he feels about the term these days. One of my proverbs is, however, "neither this nor that."
ReplyDeleteMy brother was a newspaper editor for a little while down in Navasota, TX. (He actually hated it there.) Well, have a good one!
ReplyDeleteNavasota has moments of attractiveness, but I don't know if I could survive there either.
ReplyDelete