UNO.
Ju speak Spanish, jes?
I looked down at my arms,
white.
No, I answered.
Ju should learn Spanish, mijo,
it’s important.
I don’t recall selling another tool that day.
Instead, I wandered the department store, the alleys of
memory.
Not even my own father told me to learn
Spanish.
The customer was wrong.
Who was he to judge if my
tongue
was properly educated?
DOS.
Recently, I thought about his words,
about blueprints.
Straight white lines
connecting,
crosshatching
on dark blue paper.
TRES.
When you think about it, what blueprints are fully attuned to the rigors of
reality?
When it comes down to it, what fathers fully understand all they must teach their
children?
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