To The Latin Lover I Left at the Candy Store

how come,

I wanna know,

you like me better

when I tell you

my name is Gomez?

I was one more white girl

till my accent started to show

and then you said

you should have known

I was a sister

when you saw the size of my hips

then you asked me why

I like white boys better than you

and how come/I don't hang out/on the stoop

when you offer me cerveza and cola ices, man

that Hagen Daaz is a white man's rip-off

why don't I get it straight

and learn to relate

to the pain of my people

kissing ass for food stamps?

You tell me I got it easy

cause I pass,

I tell you about ripped up

work applications

when they get to my last name

You laugh and say "Aha! That's why you like

white boys better than me; wanna change your name."

I tell you that when I was born

nobody asked me

what color I wanted to be,

what name I wanted to answer to,

or if I wanted tits and ass

or if I wanted what you've got

or if I wanted to be a bird

or if I wanted to be a cactus

or if I wanted to be cracker Jax;

I am as I am

and the pain of staying alive

I got for nothing

and nobody's begging me to hang around

and nobody's giving me tickets to the moon

and that sun gets hot on EVERYBODY.

At that last call

when la muerte says:

"Come here, baby. I want you."

there's no way out of that affair;

that switchblade shines

at everyone's throat

So don't ask me why I don't hang out

and why I like white boys better than you

no questions got answers

and it's too hot

to get hot

if you know what I mean

so give me music

and shut your mouth

you can push it in,

but you gotta pull it out

sometime . . .

when you gotta go

you gotta go

same as me,

same as the white boys

same as Mr. Hagen Daaz;

you may know my hips,

but you don't know me;

you may know my name,

but you don't know me;

you may know my color,

but you don't know me;

so don't ask me

why I don't hang out

or why I like white boys

better than you.

I'm going to the store;
you need anything?

Return to words, words and more words.

Read between the lines

another dimension of silence