Your mama says I´m a druggard bum

Your mama says I´m a druggard bum
by Peter Grzywacz
Your mama says I´m a druggard bum
and that she don´t like my gutter boots. Even
after I clean them she says they stain her rug.
When she sees me in the street she crosses
in front of taxis. Yesterday she asked me if I
sell. I joked, ¨If the price is good.¨ and that´s
why last night you found me outside the gate.
But ask anybody around and I´m sure they will tell you that I’ve strayed from you for another.
And ask me, there are none such as you.
The first time I met your sister,
she told me my sweat was green.
Told me her friend was gonna be a doctor
and if I paid her 500 pesos, he´d check my pelt for leprosy.
When I bang my ring on your gate and call your name. She bolts the door.
I see her spying, she´s concerned. Now that leprosy checkup is free.
But you know me and how well I know you–
Your papa gave me his wooden brush and said I should start buffing black shoes. Said
I should stop huffing the hag-bag and sniffing all that sand. In honest, I try to take care of him;
Tell the street thieves to leave him alone. But he walks down Tepito with a cigar, a GPS, and suit.
So when he tells me to come back next year after I´ve professioned up: I nearly lose my blood.
but you should know by now I´ll never leave you.
And then there is your mute grandma, picking at her white curls afternoon till dawn under the lamp.
And I thought she approved as she let us sleep in the backroom. But when you went to school
she served me dog food in cold water. And I ain´t gonna fight with a crusty 80 year old bag.
But you know that I love you.  No matter what they tell me or you, I´ll never be far from your window.