me and ‘buela finished
predicando
and we sat at the dining table
near the china
soaking up the silence
she made me use a coaster
for my apple juice carton
looked across the table as she
struggled to slurp her
ice cream of a McFlurry
while i desired to know more of her
what life was like as a
single mother
she’d snort and call me ‘estupida’
if i asked
in her bags i see
loud discontentment
a friend i’m not a stranger of
i hope to one day learn her story
before i read it on a
memorial program