Server at the Taquería

by Eddie Vega

You know not how much I worry about you

Your melodical English carries notes of kindness

your accent, an accidental, cries dissonance with xenophobes

I hear humanity in your smile

You bring me sweet tea and a modified special of the day --

chile relleno de asada y los frijoles, que sean charros en vez de refritos,

but I’ve also seen you serve without judgment -- 

taking a paper sack out to the unhoused man who didn’t want to come in 

offering something sweet to the child making pucheras

patient with people mispronouncing menu items or making absurd requests

Tracking me down to the laundromat next door because I’d left my spiral behind

Somewhere south of here there’s a family that knows your full name

knows the story you left behind for the one still being written

You are part of mine