Chicano Poet

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Guest Poet Rebecca Flores

Chatting About The Storm

In the driveway my neighbor and I chat
about our week’s business---
insurance claims and the recent storm
that broke over our roofs
in twisting gushes of rain,
left us without power for days.

“They started Craig’s roof early,”
she says, and I reply in phrases of concern
as my glance races across the street
where roofers hammer a late answer to the storm.
“I mailed an estimate yesterday.
They’ll cancel us after this,” she laughs.

My glance lingers on a young worker
wearing a t-shirt with M-E-L-I-S-S-A across the chest.
He walks down the slope to the ladder,
his hands and feet offering choices to the ground,
where he peels his t-shirt off,
catching our conversation.

We wave and his nod clings to the day,
spelling my new name, Melissa,
and I answer the doorbell a hundred times,
speeding a hundred glasses of ice water,
chatting about the storm
that left us without power for days.

copyright@2005 by rebecca flores


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