Waiting II

I wander the crowded station in Arequipa

And find a cafeteria, with chairs

– the nicest chairs I’ve ever seen

A group of rico suaves sit beside me

With slicked back hair and flamboyant cigarettes

That boast ‘Yo soy vaquero’

They snicker amongst each other, studying me

Like an artifact in a museum

Between the noisy buzzes of conversations

They invade me, discerningly probing

A donde vas chica? Ya Tienes novio?

And I have never felt so white

Nor so vulnerable a woman

As I make up lies about my big brother

Coming to meet me in Lima

Never having felt a greater distance

From someone I missed so dearly


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