grandma

when in need
               of any little thing
               bail out of jail
               or just hot tortillas

she has been there like time
               always
               no matter the hour
    and my trouble, never ending

from small jail cells
to my final destination, of long walks down penitentiary halls
               she arrives on visiting day, tired from the four-hour drive
               but with exactly, as much money, as the prison allows
               in change, quarters, and already, she has everything ready

food lined up
the small table between visiting chairs
                   set like the table at home
                   with the same pride, she sets this tiny place
 she smiles
                   “eat” she says, “you got to eat”
                              and with that the visit begins

              and no complaints from me
              no truth about the food here
                 or the violence of prison life
                 just smiles,
cause she’s come along way to see it
                 and it’s all i have to offer, so i give it freely
     it amazes me more, the smile, i don’t have to fake
               seeing her this way

               all day before, i practiced my words
               to assure her, that i am okay
               to pacify her worries
               cause i know, i contributed to every gray hair on her head
               every wrinkle on her face
               and all i got today
               is my crooked tooth smile
for the woman, who holds her family together, with pumpkin pies
               cause that’s my grandma in my eyes

               and the worry i see, reflects back on me
so i get upset, when i see worry in her eyes
but i am, the reason why
but, still i deny
that it was, my mistake

causing her world to stop
spinning
making all shatter and break
bringing her to pray, to her saints

st. jude for the hopeless sinners
and i guess that’s me still
and st. anthony
for her lost heart
praying she can finally find it

and i also wonder, where i am
how she raised cane, to raise me, right
and i undid every button on my shirt
to wear it like i did

to walk against the wind
against every thing
the law, and all the time
the judge could dish up

and my shirt, still, in the wind
blowing in every direction
she’d get mad
“button up your shirt,
you want to look like a trampe?”
she would say, in a whispered angry tone

yeah, i did
i wanted to look cool
like the guy on the street
that walked with his woman
and he had cool shades on
with his hair combed to perfection
i wanted to be his little reflection

and it was my dad, i seen too
with his cool motorcycle
and combed back hair
with his quick jabs in the air

i wanted that courage he used
to smile in peoples faces when
he should have been scared
i undid every button on my shirt

i undid every button
until i was nothing, like she taught me to be
nothing, like i was brought up to be
and nothing, in the end

but still she’s here
proud of me taking classes in prison
even framing my last certificate
spanish i
and she smiles and says “your so smart”

cause she’s proud of me
like a burned tortilla,
she forgot on the stove, on accident
even the black one, no one wants to eat
she’s proud of me

proud she had something to do with making me
and she smiles, cause with her hands she molded me
even burned up, and burned out, in my own life
she loves me, cause she’s my grandma, man