tortillas and bread
 
“i didn’t know you were so…
Mexican,”
someone told me,
offhandedly
 
 “oh really, why’s that?”
i said
 
“well, this music, those people,
the way your toe’s tapping
to the beat,”
she answered,
“i just thought,
you weren’t part of that”
 
“part of what?”
i said, playing along
 
“you know, like those lowlifers…”
she added
“lowriders,” i corrected
 
“whatever…they’re out there,
dancing all crazy, probably drunk,”
she pointed out
 
“my grandparents came from Mexico,
desperately poor, but hardworking,
proud Americans,
and toe-tapping to this beautiful,
soulful music from the heart,
takes me home”
 
“oh.  i just never saw you as,
you know…real Mexican,”
she said
 
i stared into her sweet,
ignorant face,
and smiled,
 
“really?  why is that...?”



© Charles Mariano