Arbitrary Lines

Torrance, California   c.1960

Printed ink flickers

Against the fact of water

Falling as itself, regardless. 

And I felt better watching it fall

Without telling myself that it did,

Down the green gullies

Of the Flores’ fiberglass roof

That shed a green glow

Upon bright ceramic figures

Crowding the patio shelves.

I knew the brightness of green

Surpassed the ink of the name

I’d learned to read: “green”. 

Mr. Flores sang with the Spanish songs,

Full voice lifting through the rain.

I liked not knowing the words

That taught me the sound of a happy man.

I wished I could be the neighbor girl

Who helped with the shelves,

Polishing the figures,

Seeing his face as he sang. 

I watched from my window next door,

The streaming of water

From the green roof

Where I wasn’t allowed

Since his words didn’t match ours: 

Verde.  Green.

With a cinderblock fence to remind me

Of the arbitrary lines between.

                                                                                    June, 2012