Читать книгу Voices on the Corner - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 15

Latino Town

merengue music is being tapped

rhythmically by tired work feet,

drenching the hot sidewalk in sweat:

it’s Latino town and the secondhand

cars, the third and fourth ones too,

are up on jacks being fixed and admired.

it doesn’t make a difference on a sabado

afternoon. it’s Latino town and grandmothers

are emerging from the tenements adopting whole

blocks, silently being everyone’s abuelita.

it’s Latino town and the hydrants are at full force;

scattered cans of Coke and beer are being

gathered by little children,

who run up to the old man selling piragua

to ask that he open the ends so they can spray

the water at each other, the buses, the

buildings and have a laugh, such a risa.

it’s Latino town and at ten o’clock this morning

the Goya little league will begin to play against

Bustelo’s little league, and it’s beans against cafe

once again, they say. it’s Latino town and Julia

and Tito have opened their first-floor window

real wide listening to the music they put on la

radiola while rehearsing the moves for tonight’s big

baile. it’s Latino town and in front of the bodega

sit Don Carlo, Don Pepe, Don Wilfredo, and Charly

on milk boxes emptied of treats, playing dominoes.

it’s Latino town, and all the smiles are in

Spanish. . . .