When
You
Were
Seven
You
Wandered
Past
A party
For
A boy
In your
Class
That
You
Hardly
Knew.

There were
Balloons
And games
And
Something
Called a
Pinata –
You stood
Silent,
Hair
Unkempt,
Fidgeting
Non-stop
Watching
Dark children
Shout
"Feliz cumpleaños!"

His grandmother
Brought out
A beautiful
Cake-
Fizzy Drinks
For everyone
In the
Yard
While the
Birthday boy
Had his face
Pushed into
The cake but
He didn't cry.

The boy's
Mother,
A short,
Dark-skinned
Woman
Brought you
Cake,
Asking you,
"Tener un poco
De torta
Que pobre
Muchacho?"

Not
Understanding,
You held
Back,

The noise,
Was too much,
But…
…cake!

Forgetting
What
Mother said
About
Dark skinned
Strangers,
You joined
Them,
Spilling
Fizzy drink on
The tablecloth
And yourself.
You hunched
Your shoulders,
Waiting
For
Yelling
And
Slaps.

Grandma,
Abuela,
Wiped up
The mess,
Giving you
More cake.
You burst into
Tears.
"Bebé, oh, bebé,
Doan ju cry…"
She took you
Into her
Big arms to
Rock you,

"Madre di Dios,
What's that hedor…
That bad smell?
This child
He is feelthy!"
All the
Dark women
Gathered
Around you
Waving their
Arms.
Embarassed,
You
Cried harder,
Expecting
Slaps.

"Blonde bruja…"
"…drunken puta!"
"Mamacita…should we call
La policía?"
"Should we tell the priest?"
"Ai yi yi, it's a crime,
To let this beautiful
Chico stink, while
That zorra
That…
That…
That... mala madre,
Sits in her
Kitchen
Drinking
All day!"

Abuela
Took
You
Into
Her house,
Bathing
You
While the
Others
Outside,
Broke the
Pinata
And
Ate
All the cake.
There were no
Ghosts
Watching
You.

You wore
The other
Boy's clothes
Until
Mother
Found you,
Cigarettes
And Lighter,
Smelling of
Drink
Screaming,
"Filthy
Wetbacks,
I'll call
Immigration!"
Staggering
In heels,
She dragged
You away.

After slaps,
You hid in
The basement,
Where
Mrs. Nora
Comforted
You in
The Shadows,
While the
Infantata
Stared
Hungrily
At you
As
Mother
Poured
Herself
Another one
In the kitchen
Above.