A Morning with Juan

when he woke up that morning, he knew…
squinting at the faint early light pouring through the blinds
he knew that today was simply
going to be one of those days…
we all have them, days when the body is tired,
the mind is cluttered,
yet thoughts are a garden
drunken with dreams from night’s haze…

getting ready for work, there is no way, he thought,
that he wanted to deal with any hateful rhetoric and bullshit –
of cultural pride he’s overfilled
pigeon-holed as deviant and lazy, he’s heard it all,
and today (as in other dirty days), he’s
not in the mood for the blatant tokenism at his employment,
not in the mood for being profiled as an America-hater,
not in the mood for being accused of taking other’s jobs –
no… not in the mood to be seen as a dark-skinned, second-class subhuman…

Juan is in a chase,
the American dream is a craze
so, this morning, he unzips his skin…
“the under-skin suit is like everybody else’s”, he thinks,
as he auto-flays, for this start of the day, he’s not feeling so together…
mind cluttered with dreams from last night’s haze…

© Gabriel Navar


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