On The Phone Con La Becky

In a hand-me-down yellow dress
barefoot

I see you leaning
against the dry Rio Bravo

you hold a stick for a doll
your father’s favorite daughter (not you)

is throwing rocks at the stones down there
your smile caught on the fingers

of your stick doll
the sky so far away it’s barely visible

when your mother
calls you in for supper

everybody’s equal
when you eat

you tell me
in my ear