SQUATTERS
G knocks on the door and asks us for the rent.
What? G is the landlord?
Tone’s not coming back.
They found him overdosed in the park.
G said he owns this building
& a few others on the block.
He said he copped them when they were abandoned
back in the day when nobody
wanted to live next to
Black American & Puerto Rican people.
This building is still abandoned.
I curse G out in my head.
I’m so angry.
G’s been behind this shithole this whole time.
He thinks he can get away with it
’cause he brings us corned beef every fifteen days?
We can’t even sleep without
worrying if we’re gonna wake up to enjoy it!
G says he’ll give us extra time if we need it.
Matter fact: The next two months is on him.
& suddenly G is a savior again.
HOW WE GOT OUR NAMES
RAID
When the roaches multiply too much,
So much that you can’t comfortably ignore them,
it’s time to kill them.
The best time to spray the roaches
is when they don’t see it coming.
Either at night when they feel the safest
or the moment right before the sun rises
and they’re scurrying back to their hiding places.
Raid works best when it’s a surprise.
You shouldn’t be in the house
when a Raid is about to go down.
Raid can’t tell the difference
between you and what it’s trying to kill.
THE NEW YORK TIMES
At the bodega I pick up a copy of The New York Times.
I try to unravel the long pages easily
like I know what I am doing.
I hold it a few exaggerated inches from my eyes.
I squint at it, hold it up toward the light
then pull it back again toward my face.
I inspect the paper like I wanna know
if it has an expiration date or some shit.
Goldo knows I am trying
to sneak read today’s article about the drug bust
in our apartment building
without having to pay the fifty cents for it.
That’s not a toy!
All the adults use this phrase
when they want you
to take things seriously.
The New York Times is serious.
I fold it up like a slice from Tony’s
& shove it under my arm.
Goldo yells that I am messing up the paper.
I want to buy this—I say in a tone
I imagine the cool white teacher’s husband would use
when he talks about investing
in our neighborhood.
I’m gonna buy this!
So I can do whatever I want with it.
BELL ATLANTIC IS TEARING US APART
The phone bill is way too high lately
so today Mami rips the twisty cord
from the phone and shoves it into
her purse as she leaves the house.
This way Estrella can’t spend hours being a puta
on the phone with her boyfriend Jesus.
After Mami leaves, Estrella digs an extra cord from her bra & resurrects the phone by reattaching the artery.
Oooh,
I taunt.
If Mami finds out
she’s gonna kill you.
Estrella laughs a threat my way.
I look for another business to mind.
I know it doesn’t really matter
if Mami tries to kill Estrella.
Some part of Estrella has already died.
I can tell because people who are truly alive protect themselves from danger.
LOSING MY VIRGINITY
Lately, I spend most of my days with Church Boy.
We cut class & explore the city together.
Today we raced up & down
the Broadway Junction Escalators.
& took the J train
to Kosciuszko street.
Church Boy and I take turns pronouncing it.
Cos-Key-Yas-Co. That sounds about right.
We walk down Broadway until we get to Dekalb Avenue
Where Church Boy lives. We sit on the fire escape
& I remember what Señor Maví told me about Bushwick burning.
Hard to believe this all went up in flames once.
Church Boy doesn’t hear me though
His hands are already up my skirt
Trying to start a different kind of fire.
MAMI THINKS I AM STILL A VIRGIN
It only happened once so maybe
I think I still am too.
ESTRELLA GOES MISSING
Maybe it’s because they think
you ran away with the boy who looked like God.
Maybe it’s because they think
you’ll come back three days later like you are God.
Maybe they are expecting you to resurrect like this again, like you have always been a dead girl
waiting for the moment to rise,
glory and miracle.
Maybe no one is searching for you
because you being gone
is not enough evidence
that you were indeed missing.
You so loud so the police are sure
we will find you. Crying wolf. Crying.
You so loud that when you are silent,
they point us in the direction of your echo and say, look
a cave in love with her own darkness.
You are not a girl worthy of a torch.
You girl with bonfire hair, do not get to be illuminated.
You do not get to smile for the sake of being happy.
You have a grin ready for a mugshot.
They say it’s your mouth that keeps you captive.
You’re a name too hard to pronounce,
must mean you’re difficult too.
Must mean you’re not worthy of a chorus
to sing you into prayer.
Must make you a melody
we forgot the words to, a quiet hum.
It is no wonder you are missing.
IF BEING BORICUA IN BUSHWICK IS A FEELING IT’S THE WORST KIND
Not worst like we wish we were anybody else.
Worst like we know we not supposed to be us.
Worst like I can’t believe Mami traded in a singing coquí for a roaring M train lullaby.
Worst like we gotta wait on line for everything
especially our humanity.
Worst like everybody in our hood is Puerto Rican
but ain’t no Puerto Ricans in our history books!
Worst like is history tryna tell us we don’t have stories,
or that we don’t have stories worth telling?
Worst like we belong to a missing people or something.
Worst like we know our people not missing
’cause we find them every day.
Worst like if I was to go missing, would someone try and find me?
Worst like, damn, I hope I never go missing.
Worst like what if I am missing right now?
ESTRELLA IS BACK
& everyone acts like she never left.
GOT A SECRET, CAN YOU KEEP IT?
Our church is on the corner
of Morgan Avenue & Thames Street.
This is the part
of Bushwick
where people come to sin
and sinners come to die.
The church is the only holy thing
on this block. Before church,
Estrella and I race to the corner and hide
from God between the abandoned factories.
Estrella has a secret
and she makes me swear not to tell anyone.
I run through every secret-keeping pledge
I learned from Lala
whenever she tells me about her crushes or
a girl she’s about to fight at recess.
Estrella is kind of like my homegirl.
I think these pledges apply here.
Cross my heart and hope to die.
Nah. ’Cuz If I accidentally told somebody,
that’s my whole life.
Pinky swear.
Damn, that would require actual physical contact.
We not that kind of family.
I settle on what seems like the safest option.
I zip my lips, and lock the end of my smile
with a twist of my wrist and throw away the key.
Estrella doesn’t buy my imaginarily zipped lips.
You can still open your mouth, stupid.
I keep them closed anyway, point to my mouth and shake a thumbs-up towards her to signal
that the zipper really works & she can tell me.
She rolls her eyes so far back that I almost think
she’s checking heaven to see if God found us.
Whatever. I had sex for the first time.
With Jesus. That’s where I stayed the last few days.
She leans against the brick wall
like it’s the first thing to hold her all day.
I post up next to her,
feel my hand melting into hers.
In Bushwick it’s hard to be soft
when everything is so hard.
I don’t know what to say
so I keep my promise & say nothin’ at all.
LOVE
Church Boy tells me he loves me.
This is the first time I’ve heard the phrase.
It doesn’t sound like I imagined it would.
He says it like he wants something from me
but he must know I have nothing to give
so I allow it.
I pretend I am happy to hear it.
Maybe I am. I haven’t decided yet.
I ask him to say it again.
This time so I can start getting used to it.
This time so I can mouth along with the words.
Practice how they feel if I ever said them to myself.
HOW WE GOT OUR NAMES
TAG
Church Boy has a black book and he wants me to tag it.
I don’t have a tag name yet so he suggests Nena.
Choosing a tag is important. On the news the mayor calls it vandalism and at home Mami calls it porquería.
If you paid enough attention to the streets you would know vandalizers are actually called writers
and that porquería is actually an art form.
Tagging up is the stuff of legacy.
Corner Boy Jesus’ tag name is G.O.D.
He says it stands for Get Out or Die.
That it has a double meaning:
1. A warning to outsiders.
2. A promise to himself.
Technically with the extra “o” the tag should have been G.O.O.D.
but Jesus is a respected writer so it’s disrespectful to question his philosophy.
G.O.D. was tagged on almost every wall in Bushwick like Jesus was tryna bomb his way into heaven or something.
Just like that, Jesus had people talking.
A good tag will give you notoriety.
& it don’t matter if publicity is bad.
If people hate you enough it can almost feel like they love you.
HOW TO GO MISSING
One day the city
started paying
cleanup crews
to paint over
all the tags.
I wonder what
it feels like
to be so visible
that people want
to make you disappear.
SILENCE
Church Boy runs his fingers
all across my thighs
like they were a bad neighborhood
that he knew the shortcuts through.
I apologize for my stretch marks
because I want him to say
don’t worry about it
or you’re still beautiful
but he doesn’t.
He says nothing
and nothing
is sometimes saying a lot.
HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Sarai.
It is the fall again and my name
drops off Estrella’s tongue
like a leaf from a tree.
She tells me about her idea to move
to Chicago, Pennsylvania or Florida.
Lots of Puerto Ricans live there too.
I’m always surprised to hear about other places
Puerto Ricans live in
besides Puerto Rico.
How they all get there?
Why are so many of us here?
Like when Ms. Rivera told us
about Boricuas in The Bronx.
I wonder why Puerto Ricans
would ever want to leave the island?
with all the money Jesus is making dealing for G
we can leave.
Buy a house.
Can you imagine?
Estrella is lost in her imagination.
A house? With a backyard.
Maybe even a pool!
It’ll be the American dream
if we add a dog.
But we’ll need a Rottweiler or some shit.
You know, for protection.
I guess she means no matter where we go
we’ll never really be safe.
Even when we make plans to leave Bushwick,
Bushwick will never leave us.
MAMI THREATENS TO SEND ESTRELLA TO PUERTO RICO
In Brooklyn, nothing belongs to us
not even our mouths.
Mami can’t stand Estrella these days.
Mami said she’s been acting different
since she started dating
Corner Boy Jesus.
Ay Mami. Chill.
You buggin’.
I come to Estrella’s defense.
Mami doesn’t appreciate how I
give my tongue a lazy comfort, a home.
I know you don’t talk to your teachers like this in school
—which is to say
she doesn’t feel white enough to be respected.
AGUADILLA
Damn, what will Estrella do in Puerto Rico
when she doesn’t even speak Spanish?
What a way that would be for Mami to abandon her.
Drop her in the middle of Aguadilla
with her mouth steady stuck in Brooklyn.
Estrella is threatening to run away again.
I calm her down. Mami couldn’t go back to Puerto Rico
if she wanted to. La piña está agria.
Mami owes too much of herself to Brooklyn to leave it.
BORI WELA IS DYING
& all Mami did today was stare at the phone
waiting for it to ring.
We found out from Mami’s brother, who was as much news to me as Bori Wela dying.
Mami never talks about he
r family in Puerto Rico.
It’s like she left everyone behind.
It’s like that was the first death she knew.
ESTRELLA GOES TO LIVE WITH PAPI
Mami is stressed since hearing the news of Bori Wela
& the fighting with Estrella has escalated.
¿Pues entonces? Mami opens the door.
What are you waiting for?
¡Vete!
Estrella is free to leave and Mami is free
to pretend she didn’t just kick her out.
Estrella grabs her best clothes.
She leaves me the wack ones.
She isn’t sad to leave.
Maybe Papi’s new wife
can be her new mother.
I MISS ESTRELLA
I tell Church Boy I miss Estrella.
I have no one to laugh with now.
& now there’s only one of us for Mami
to take out her frustrations on.
Church Boy says I can always talk to him.
& we kiss until I have forgotten Estrella, Mami, Bushwick.
For a brief moment I feel
like I understand Julie’s addiction.
How easy it is to love something
for how well it can distract you from your pain.
WE’RE GOING TO PUERTO RICO
Mami’s brother has offered to pay
for Mami’s ticket to Puerto Rico
to visit Bori Wela in the hospital.
He bought a ticket for me too.
I feel sad I can’t share this moment with Estrella
& I feel guilty for being excited about going to Puerto Rico.
I make a note to learn the word
for having so many feelings at once.
I think of Señor Maví and his carrito.
The Puerto Ricans dancing on Fifth Avenue.
He’ll be happy to know
that I finally get to learn my history.
I finally get to go home.