Amie Amis

Esperanza's Piñata

2011-04-16T17:44:00.000-07:00

The fiesta was in full swing. Caballeros flirted and twirled senoritas
in the plaza. Vibrant reds, blues and purples swirled as skirts rose
into bells. Some young men stood back to watch for an occasional bare
leg. The senoritas would be scolded later for their carelessness.
Finally, one entwined pair would fall in love and Esperanza would say
goodnight.

"Please let us keep dancing, Espy, the night is young," the
party-goers would plead.

"I can't," answered Esperanza. "Mama will punish me if I don't go to
bed." Esperanza then packed the muñecas quitapenas under her pillow.
The dolls obeyed her wish and returned to their mysterious task of
absorbing Esperanza's worries and bringing her peaceful sleep. These
dolls, the size of a walnut, had been keeping watch over her dreams
for the year since she turned seven.

She remembered her seventh birthday when she was finally old enough to
have her own piñata. She had loved the walk she and her mother made
into town and the bustling of the mercado. Vibrant flags were strung
above the street, flower vendors offered a camellia that Mama fastened
into Esperanza's braid. Food carts squeezed together and the aroma of
churros and taquitos permeated her senses. Tables and chairs painted
orange with flowers were strewn around in the sun or under canopies
along the storefronts. Esperanza and her mother followed the tiled
paseo straight to her favorite shop, the piñata store.

Shapes of enchanted creatures and objects hung from the ceiling.
Stars, bulls and burros in red, blue, purple and pink crepe paper
rustled as they passed under them. Esperanza selected a pink and
purple burro piñata with a blue saddle. While waiting for it to be
retrieved, she lost herself in the other treasures.

She was fascinated by the colors of the toys and candies. Then, a
sporadic click, clickity-click, from a barrel caught her attention.
These were the jumping beans. Mama had bought these for her when she
was five. Once home, the clicking slowed, then stopped after a couple
days. Her mother told her that they were young moths trying to push
through the wall of a nut. It was a cruelty that Esperanza couldn't
abide, so she encouraged them quietly, "Come on little moths. Break
free."

Next were the miniature caballeros and senoritas, the muñecas
quitapenas. With one look at their bright yarn and painted faces, she
yearned to bring them home. She begged and pulled on her mother to no
avail. Disappointed, Esperanza's lips puckered until the shopkeeper
presented her piñata. Wrapped in twine and newspaper, it was almost as
big as herself. Her face brightened and she pleaded to pick out the
candies that would fill her piñata to the brim.

"The treats are a secret," said Mama.

A mariachi band started up and, in her excitement, Esperanza forgot
her worries and dashed into the plaza. She danced as her mother walked
along behind her. She never wanted to leave this place.

When they returned home, Esperanza unwrapped the burro and pranced
into the parlor to show Papa. Irritated, he shrugged, "Not now,
Esperanza." Absorbed in the politics section of the newspaper, he
didn't glance up. It was never the right time with Papa. She touched
his graying hair in a way that he wouldn't notice and wished to be
taken into his lap. She wanted to tell him about the plaza and how she
came to have a flower in her hair. But he never listened to her
stories.

Embracing the burro, Esperanza crept back to her room. A tear fell
onto the crepe paper and the burro spoke in a kindly voice, “Don't
cry, Esperanza. You're seven now. It's a beautiful world for you.” She
grabbed onto him even tighter and the two leaped out the window. With
arms wrapped around his neck and legs askew across his back, she held
on as he bounded up the hill, high above her house. It was dusk and
Esperanza could watch the lights of all the houses turn on. “I've
never climbed this high before,” she whispered to the donkey. They
walked to the other side of the summit and sought out the marketplace
glowing in the distance. "It's so peaceful from up here," she mused.
She could almost hear the mariachis and the clamor of the vendors.

Mama's voice interrupted her reverie, "Espy, time for dinner!" In one
great leap, Esperanza and the burro flew back to the house.

The courtyard was aglow with lanterns and posada candles. Colored
lights were scattered along the balcony and across the patio. The
cousins, uncles and aunts had all gathered while she was away on the
hillside. The women had prepared a special birthday dinner. After
dinner the uncles brought out their guitars and trumpets. The women
cleared the table and the children ran off to play games. It was a
fiesta fit for seven times a hundred.

"Espy!” Mama called out, “we have a surprise!" The children were
ushered into the garden to find the burro suspended from the glowing
tree. Everyone cheered. One by one, the cousins were blindfolded and
spun around before swinging at the creature. Poorly landed blows and
little batterings failed to rupture the burro. Finally, it was
Esperanza's turn. She stabbed at the air until she felt the movable
form and, then, pulled back and swung. In one smack, the piñata burst.
Treats sprayed across the yard. A box dropped at Esperanza's feet and,
inside, she found the muñecas quitapenas she had admired earlier in
the day. Seeing her, the little people in the box cheered and waved,
and wished Esperanza "feliz cumpleaños."

Evelyn

2011-02-19T14:08:00.000-08:00

She was wearing a red dress. As she led me down the hall, she grabbed a lab coat, which concealed the soft cottons that had outlined her slim body. I hustled behind her to keep up with her strides, graceful and befitting her height.

I sank into the chair, surrounded by an array of tubes and instruments. She pored over my chart and asked, “So, mon, have you been brushing regularly?” She leaned over me, “Have you been flossing? We want you handsome for the ladies.” Her violet eyes and rich mouth close to my face mesmerized me. Her braids were pulled back from her face and her warm breath smelled of cinnamon.

She strapped on a mask, adjusted the light over my eyes, and began poking and scraping while asking, “what do you eat, mon? Why are your teeth so stained? Do you smoke?”

“Mwah awhe eh huhuhuwew uhw...” it was hopeless, but she understood.

“Coffee is my weakness, too. In Jamaica, we lived close by the coffee groves, but we couldn’t afford it. Jamaican coffee is the best in the world. Now, I bring bags of it back with me.”

Her voice was so soothing that I didn't mind her scolds The lilt carried me away from the probing and whizzing in my mouth. She stopped and removed her mask, “You have a cavity. It's small, don't worry, mon. We get you out of here soon.” She hurried out of the room, but I could hear her discussing me with her assistant

I squirmed in my seat and studied her framed diplomas: “University of Maryland, Baltimore, Evelyn Fleming, Dentistry; "Harvard University, Evelyn Fleming-Cabello, Dental Surgery." I memorized the years, but I couldn't get over the hyphenated name. When she returned, I glanced at her left hand while she changed gloves. My dreams of spending evenings with her on my arm and showing her off were dissolved by a simple, gold band.

A needle the size of my femur stung and then numbed me. I wouldn’t have a chance to steal her from her husband with drool dribbling down my chin. The assistant shoved a tube into my cheek and Evelyn started to drill. I dozed off to the sounds of sucking and buzzing. “There you go. All finished.” She patted my shoulder. “Gargle with this and don't eat for a few hours.”

I could hardly keep the water in my mouth to swish. I think I was smiling when I left, holding onto my dream, but I heard her call in her next patient - another smitten man with trouble ahead.

Room

2011-02-18T06:08:00.000-08:00

I was stretched out on the floor and could feel the chill between the boards. As my hand slid along the grain, it traversed the strips of wood that zigzagged under my fingers. It stopped to explore one board in particular. I had always wanted a home with a parquet floor and now I have it.

The walls reached up above me like waterfalls in reverse that rushed into a spray of crown moulding. The turbulence swirled into the ceiling tiles and the tin rippled. I was swept into a whirlpool that carried me into the wilderness. I drifted in a bower and could now smell orchids and hear the murmur of wildlife. I dozed off.

What? A swarm of killer bees! They strafed the river and they shrilled around my head. I woke from my reverie, “They’re here and leaning on the buzzer! I thought I had a few more hours!” I yelled out to the ceiling. “Delivery men are never on time.”

I padded over to the door and buzzed them in. I left the door ajar and flopped back down on the parquet. I figured it would take the movers several minutes to climb five flights of stairs, and I could recapture my dream.

I half-closed my eyes and listened for the waterfall. I heard grunting and echoes from the men plodding through the stairwell. “Grunt, clomp, thud;” “grunt, clomp, thud. A final “thunk” at the door announced the arrival of the sofa. I sprang up, just as the mover knocked and pushed through the door. There was no escape. The mover tracked mud as he shoved through to investigate the apartment's layout. Perhaps a trail to mark his way back out of the wilds of my three-room home.

“Where you wan’ it,” he demanded, and without waiting for an answer, he signaled for his helper to shove the sofa into the room.

I ran to the south wall and said, “Here! Put it here!”

“It looks kinda big,” the mover grumbled. The helper was silent.

They placed the sofa across the northwest corner of the room, where it partially blocked the window. Wiping his brow, the mover opined, “This thing ain’t practical; you oughta cover it with plastic so it don't get dirty.” Drops of sweat fell onto the mint satin. Expecting that the movers were just taking a breather, I was amazed that they turned in unison, hustled to the door, slammed it, and disappeared.

I surveyed the room. The bower was gone. Bending over, I put my side hard against the stained armrest and wrestled the monster to the south wall.

Rich's Woolly Hat

2011-01-17T09:12:00.000-08:00

Arriving home, I was enveloped by the air of my warmer-than-life apartment - welcome after the sudden cold-snap outside. When my roommate Rich and I left for work that morning, it was warm enough for us to forget it was December in New York.

“Hi roommie,” Rich cried out from the kitchen. He had opened the tall loft windows to let excess heat out and the unexpected frigid air in. The landlord keeps the boiler running full-strength after Thanksgiving.

“Brr, it's freezing outside and hot as Cuba in here,” I said as I peeled off my coat, “I wish I could change as fast as this weather - it's severe!”

“I'd say! I had to buy a hat at lunch,” Rich explained, “but, I don't know if I'll keep it.” Lying on a chair was an orange-yellow glob that even the cat was avoiding. Upon close inspection, the form of a woolly hat emerged. The yarn was a multi-colored shade varying from vivid yellow and orange to a subtle vermilion. However, the key detail was a strand of gold woven throughout.

“You know this is a lady's hat, right?” I fixed eyes with him, hoping for a glint of concurrence. I dreaded that he had been striding around the neighborhood with his usual air of unabashed confidence, mistaking our neighbors' smiles as flirts when, in fact, they were mocking his fashion sense.

He gazed back at me, incredulous. Since we generally love ribbing each other, I needed to prolong my stare before he realized I wasn't kidding. The events of the day, his haste to protect his frosty ears, the convenient shop, his lunch date, all rushed into his mind and rose into his cheeks. He knew he was in for it.

“It's not a women's hat,” he moaned, “it's unisex!”

I collapsed into a chair with laughter, "Rich, you've been wearing a lady's hat!” This usually wouldn't matter, except that Rich fancies himself Mr. Cool. I had to straighten him out.

He exploded with chagrin, "A man can wear a unisex hat!” Then, making his case, he explained that the hat looks yellow to him. "Yellow's neutral. Unisex is for everyone. Guys wear yellow. Look at the Pittsburgh Steelers - all yellow. The coach wears a yellow hat and a yellow coat!"

I continued to laugh, strengthening my argument, "The gold weave - it's the give-away. And it's a beret."

"Soldiers wear berets! Besides, who, other than you, can see that gold weave? It just looks yellow to me!"

Then Rich shared his saga. He had left his office to meet a new girl for lunch. "I didn't realize the temperature had dropped until I crossed the street. A blast of cold air hit me and I thought my head was going to explode."

He explained that the old tweed coat he wore to work would detract from his new brown suit he donned to impress his date. So he left it behind. At the corner, a shop featuring "genuine" Tibetan incense and woolens beckoned him with it's warmth and heavy aroma. The woolens were displayed for easy purchase by desperate, frozen buyers, and most items were suitable for climbing the Himalayas.

“There it was,” he said inspired and wide-eyed, “just like a ray of sunshine it stood out from all the others.” These exotic trinkets he imagined were smuggled by a peasant woman, crouched and jostling in a rickety, wooden cart from her cliff-side village to meet a mysterious trader. Today, her feat would adorn a man wearing a brown suit with a yellow-orange hat. Now that he mentioned it, I thought it did reveal the cheerful shades of a sunrise.

“Anyway,” he continued, “after wearing it all afternoon, I realized it feels a little tight. I offered it to my co-workers, but no takers. Would you wear it?”

I started to snicker, but straightened up at the trace of disappointment in his eyes. “Well, it is pretty. But it's not the right color for me. It would be better for a blond or red-head.”

He looked defeated, as if I were the hat's only hope. So, I studied it again. “Well, let me try it on. Maybe it will work.” The hat felt warm and cozy - a perfect fit. It looked great as I readjusted it in various angles. "This would have been perfect to have today. Okay, I'll take it!”

“No, sorry,” Rich said decidedly, “I'm going to keep it.” Having recovered his substantial pride, he swiped the hat out of my hands and put it on. Then he returned to the kitchen with a bounce in his step and a whistle.

Parker

2010-09-08T08:57:00.000-07:00

Tweets and chirps

heard through the night

as the hours crawl into dawn

Sir Parker

with his ornithology

inspires mocking "Birds"

students of his life

keep his tricks alive

perpetuate generations of chicks

bebop licks

Nectarine

2010-08-16T16:31:00.001-07:00

Savor the nectar of the nectarine
I grasp
I squeeze it gently
and gaze at its sunset hue
I smell the essence
I bite into the flesh
that falls
from my lips
I've been dreaming of this moment all day

The nectarine holds its breath
it stares at me
it seduces
the bees are jealous of the nectar of the nectarine
of its sweetness
it taunts the plum and the peach
a little of each
but lovelier.

Avocado

2010-08-16T16:30:00.000-07:00

My sister fruit
from the Golden State
she is the Sun's mistress
she isn't beautiful at first glance
her skin is thick
keeping harm away
she has a heart disguised as a stone
however,
if improperly handled
she is easily bruised
she'll never forget the Sun
nor will she ever remember how the Sun loved her so

First Date

2010-08-14T06:21:00.000-07:00

creams
creams to have the life of your dreams
creams for smoothing lumps, bumps, ridges and ripples
creams for smoothing out fine lines and wrinkles
creams for fading, disappearing freckles
creams for creating that, "why yes, I just spent the weekend in Barbados."

plucking, waxing, shaping, curling
in case your night will be a "sure thing"

Fitting into that tight dress is no hurdle
Just squeeze
Suck it in
Snap it tight
Into a girdle.

And before you breath
be sure to leave
your stiletto heals ready to step in
For bending is no longer an option

The glorious hour chimes 9
Your date is here
It's time to dine
You order appropriately
Avoid the asparagus!
Good girl, good girl
You choose spinach.

Grinning and laughing all night
Showing off your white smile
that took 20 days of bleach.
You get home to a fright
All the while
You had spinach stuck in your teeth,

Chocolate Chest

2010-08-14T06:06:00.000-07:00

There in the hat
He enters
2 out of 3 women prefer men in hats.
I represent half of that population
Plus, I've always said,
"nice eyebrows and a smile can melt my knees."

Just like a song
Some enchanted morning
Smiles and stares,
Glances are exchanged across a crowded room

Oh, he is leaving...
But wait,
He is distracted...
By me!

I have a chocolate CHEST!
Chocolate is dripping down my face
Trickling down my neck
Coating my bosom.

Bulbous
Chocolate fountain
Globoids
Protrude in his direction
As he exits, confused.
I know it was only the chocolate that captured his eye

I travel to the opposite end of the universe
Conquer alien worlds
Save kittens from trees
Good night moon
Good night John Boy
My journey is coming to an end.

I am melancholy and tired
I climb the stairs
into a wormhole through the space-time continuum
only to FIND
a man with a hat, eyebrows and a smile
And a CHOCOLATE-covered CHEST!

2010-07-03T09:47:00.000-07:00

My legs have been bitten by fleas
They bit my ankles to knees
If they could jump higher
They'd reach a thigh or
Anywhere else they would please!