East avenue irregulars
hahaha
that’s who we are I say
after their query of my family
and its unusual array
a cast of misfits from Roslyn, Pa—
fighting/ backstabbing/ an unruly lot
a mixed-breed-brood from that darkie Arab guy
who looks Puerto Rican and that red-headed
American/ who shies away from everything
puffing on her cigarettes/ inward and lonely—
mister and misses off-beat
sure created an unseemly plot
set amongst a backdrop
drab/ ordinary/ working-class
a usual story
a cape cod/ a row of hedges
a chevy in the drive—
then there’s you and him
the mister and misses
of my best friend
with their questions
and their gaping stares—
as if their discussing some crazy movie
they just watched on their television
their kids 5th grade friend becomes
their nightly entertainment/ a curiosity of a young lot
from over there/ from the other side of town
with less than—
mixed and messed and unseemly at best
although the Irish like moms side
are a blended mess too/ as are you two
McCalls/ can’t get more Irish than that—
but in America/ the strangest strangers
are dark/ foreign/ and blended
not a purist
like they think they are—
invaders and boundary breakers
come in all shades
and kids with silly grins
often don’t notice them—
mister and misses invade from within the warmth
and inviting promises of their pompous questions as
I sit in their// we made it //suburban kitchen
wishing I could shut my mouth—
but it runs like some uncontrollable leak
from their scrubby toilet and sink
while they push and prod at my little brain
experimenting with how far they can poke me—
and all I want to do is escape.
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Joel Naren on Unsplash
