Dreamers I

The streets of Oklahoma were pitch-dark,

I thought the power was gone.

How come these gringos don’t use light poles? I asked.

Saturday at noon. Panic had new meaning.

How come these gringos don’t run for cover

at the sound of the tornado siren? I asked.

Chatter, chatter, not sure they had read

the same English grammar book I had.

How come these gringos say she don’t? I asked.

Loneliness bites like coldness. Coldness stings when homesick.

How come these gringos barely look at you when they come in to work? I asked.

I became an easily confused waitress

especially when asked for a cup o’ joe and flapjacks

as my eyes opened big as the over medium eggs cooking on the grill.

It took a good soul to translate into plain English:

Coffee and pancakes. Was that so hard to say?

I’m often warmed by the silliness of those moments

gone – I now know not to run for cover at the scheduled Saturday test siren,

but I often find myself warning those who are new dreamers

not to worry about dark streets as there’s plenty of light

inside of us to go around.