A six-year-old me played a game of “stay awake” against the car window while Mom drove me and my sister to school every morning. On Wednesdays, the West Farms train staircase looked like the stairs to reach a roller coaster....
Is this the face of a tongue? you Spanish? this pasty winter olive this summer hash brown the color of a language? you Spanish? do I have a tilde for a mustache, an accent for a brow, this head of...
When you say I’m too loud, I carry the boombox of a Bronx summer block party higher on my back. I’m in love with the loud of my voice, I treat you well with my truth. The macaw and I...