Poetry by Daniela Muhleisen
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My Pavels knew how to play soccer
before I did ‘cus they played with socks rolled up
into a ball in
the streets in another life
my name was Carlos they called me Charlie
even my Pavels liked the ring
of it. We used to save money for Nikes and cadenas
and tamarind sweets maybe when lucky
finessed some like when people leave their clothes out to dry
and the wind takes them
in another direction. My momma
was just as brown
in that life, just as good at basketball, ‘cept she had
un hombre bien cabrón
named Rodolfo who played American fútbol and had a lil bell
in his room on the wall by the bed
to ring for help ‘cept
it wasn’t help when he just wanted a beer from the kitchen yo
Rodolfo was un PINCHE HUEVON
Charlie and my Pavels used to pretend his face was
the soccer net and when they hit the post
they’d laugh like it was his
arm and when Rodolfo
said stuff like Charlie bring me la Corona del refri
my Pavels would scream at the
top of their lungs kicking and everything
Charlie don’t go and
I would still go I mean
Charlie would still go there was nothing
no young boy could say to an older mans
except coming.