Granny never liked Rosalita.
She did not like the jet-black,
Shining hair or
Those beautiful flowing tresses
Covering the entire back of
Her pastel quincenera dresses.
“Vulgar little girl,” she’d seethe.
So imagine how she loathed the day
When I’d learned enough
Spanish to say,
“That girl”
was mi chica especial …mi carina.
And how she frowned when I said
Rosalita was like the water for my
Chocolate.
Que lastima!
To Granny, brown sugar was coarse stuff…
Unrefined. And “Mexican”
Sounded like something dirty
In her mouth.
So imagine my surprise when
I heard from Auntie Dee that she had spent some
Summers in her younger years
“Down South,” and that the
Dallas Ladies Club had
Once chastised her for
Being too friendly with
Juan…
Her gardener.
Lo percaron en las tunas,
Con las manas coloradas.*
(* They caught her in the prickly pear patch with her hands all red.)
Filed under: Issue 2, Kenneth Karrer
