my mother told me a story,
of a man with a Mexican restaurant.
bright and colorful,
he brought light to the mall
a permanent fixture that blended in,
a happy and safe place for all.
until they came knocking.
the kind old man had a choice-
give up his restaurant, or give up his people.
cinnamon hung in the air
we finally finished our Christmas shopping,
and could finally escape the bustling mall
but I stop once we reach the restaurant.
it’s bright tiles faded, windows boarded.
he chose the former.
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 10:26 PM UTC
my mother told me a story,
of a man with a Mexican restaurant.
bright and colorful,
he brought light to the mall
a permanent fixture that blended in,
a happy and safe place for all.
until they came knocking.
the kind old man had a choice-
give up his restaurant, or give up his people.
cinnamon hung in the air
we finally finished our Christmas shopping,
and could finally escape the bustling mall
but I stop once we reach the restaurant.
it’s bright tiles faded, windows boarded.
he chose the former.
I promise this is the last political poem lolz
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