Chicano Poet

Wednesday, April 20, 2005


We were so poor
when we were growing up
Christmas meant

a pair of socks for me,
and that was it.
My uncle Frank

and Aunt Luisa
gave me those socks
once a year

I needed them
or not.

These were not the socks
from Neruda’s
Ode To A Sock,

these were not
insect socks,

these were not
sock drawers
in a Borges mirror,

these were plain and simple
brown, chicano

Now all
I needed
was zapatos.


At 11:48 AM, Blogger Lorna Dee Cervantes said...

Dang, Reyes! You make me cry. That good. My son gets a bag of underwear every year, along with all his other presents, just to remember, just so I re-member. Gracias, for remembering. I think I'll go wrap something in the funny papers now...

At 11:50 AM, Blogger Lorna Dee Cervantes said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

At 12:10 PM, Blogger RC said...

Ah,A CHICANO CHRISTMAS,that would make a great short story,huh?

At 1:08 PM, Blogger C. Dale said...

Nice poem. I quite admire the way you use narrative without giving up the lyrical aspects of the line. Beautiful.

At 6:30 PM, Blogger RC said...

Thanks.Hey,I check out Avoiding The Muse all the time.


Post a Comment

<< Home