i remember little   a fogged memory
                south bronx
                coming from rican     dominican roots.
                the patterson projects   john adam houses

a child into a teenager
                dates	days  places   people  
                their names have faded away
	        like the clouds i would stare at 
                through my fifth floor       window

i was that kind of kid   daydreaming all the time   wondering
	        where are those clouds going	       i want to go there.

my mother cooking	
                  the sweet smell of arroz con habichuelas	
	          y bacalao	
                  that i could buy for a dollar across the street

la bodega	
                   the salt rough over the single slab       of fish.

in between the spanish radio station in the morning
	         there was plenty of time for america 
                 jumping up and down out of 
                 the black and white television		

watching spanish tv with my mother		novellas
                my only chance to hold on to my dream 
                where everyone spoke 	spanish around me 	
                to me	from me.

bozo the clown
forties movies
abbott and costello
sci fi

dead end kids
james cagney
bela lugosi
horror movies 

watching spanish tv with my mother		novellas
                my only chance to hold on to my dream 
                where everyone spoke 	spanish around me 	
                to me	from me.

it’s all faded away
	      like the clouds i would stare at 
              through my fifth floor window.

i was that kind of kid   daydreaming all the time   wondering
	        where are those clouds going	       
i want to go there.