The Personification

In the third grade, at Juan Seguin Elementary School,
I’d walk the three blocks to Markgraf’s Grocery Store,

jump a fence on the side of the store,
and devour my tacos in secret, in shame.

Is that what fosters your arrogance now,
says my wife as she tries to corral me.

She doesn’t much like the fact
of my political incorrectness.

I yell like Stokely Carmichael,
I rant like Raymundo Tigre Perez.

Ten feet shorter than Ricardo Sanchez,
I take no prisoners.

Proud as I never was
when a dirty, little Mexican third grader.