Los Good Old Days

I pull out my mariachis
to serenade you under your window

you shyly tug at the curtains
as if they were made of flesh

I sugarcoat my words with
veinte poemas de amor y una sad song

your smile shines like a lámpara
in the window

suddenly your mother
slams the curtains shut

I’ve learned the facts of life
never serenade a white girl