When I was little, I remember Blanca from
Hiding under the kitchen table.
Peeking out to see
What will one day be me.
Pretty blue shoes and long brown legs
Leaning across the countertop.
I remember Blanca like,
Sunshine and the windows open
Like a carefree game of hopscotch
On a Sunday afternoon, forever.
Blanca, eating Brazil nuts and listening to the radio
How our Mami used to laugh
Sliced mangoes and
Hair that smells like flowers
All the boys liked Blanca too.
Across the countertop
Won't you be mine?
Only Blanca, red like chilies and blue like the ocean all day long
She wouldn't ever be theirs.
Now, Mami cries, says these things are for never.
While I slice the mangoes
On this terrible afternoon
More silent than a sunset
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