te vas a españolizar
he
joked, but the p smacked
slightly
like
the spitting of men
when
they are afraid.
as
a going-away gift,
one
friend gave me a mix CD
(which
he named deTOOunPOCO)
and
said with a smile,
pa’ que no
se te olvide Latinoamérica.
that
old threat of treason again.
that
old half-joke again.
there
are people who love me so much
they
still regard me suspiciously,
as
though it were possible
to
cheat on a place.
as
though there were a limit
to
the number of cities
I
can claim as my own.
as
though I did not spend this weekend
scouring
convenience stores for ribbons and flowers
with
a manic love.
since
crossing to the colonizing country
I’ve
heard, but you’re actually American
and
you act American and what place
do you really identify with and eres
mexicana, no
seas tan americana,
but
mostly
I’m
passing again, indifference.
who
knew I could pull off
ambiguous
and mestiza
in
the plaza where the Inquisition had its headquarters?
tourists
from northern Spain
ask
me for directions. on the street,
no
one says puta. no one is surprised
when
I open my mouth. I want
someone
to react when I say México.
No
one does. The empire
was
vast. the name of that place
is
not evocative here the way
the
name of this place
is
electrical there. no one ever
understands
how much is being
destroyed
in their name,
with
their language. is it really any surprise
that
I crossed an ocean
to
dance something impure
in
the country that thought it could invent purity?
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