Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Poem: Suicide of a Puerto Rican Jibaro in Mainland Buffalo

They didn’t understand
They were all Americans now
He would smile sometimes
Thinking about his youth in Ponce
Carmen, Rosa, Teresa and Liza
Holding on to dreams
That helped him stay alive
The tropical music that was killed
By the new sound of “salsa”
But they didn’t understand
His children didn’t understand
A million times his body was raped
By the unfriendly cold
The farm he sacrificed
To pursue the American Dream
Trying to buy some dignity in the trade
Of the unemployment office
Shoveling the snow that invaded
His tropical existence
He would walk up Virginia Street
And down Hudson Street
For some clues of understanding
New inventions of nightmares
That wanted to destroy his dreams
The dead dreams
That helped him stay alive
Were too weak
For the American nightmare
They didn’t understand
They were
All Americans now

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