Sirens sounding,
cars racing,
food frying.
People gather in la cancha,
cheering for their favored team,
booing the opposing.

Children shout in joy
as they look for their friends,
their hands and faces sticky from
the dulce they’ve been devouring.

Merengue, Bachata, and Salsa
flood the air as the notes are played
in several different households,
the volume of the speakers
cranked to the max.

In Edificio 19B, Apartmento 2B,
we sit at the table for our almuerzo.
There is family, and people who are
strangers to me,
but closer than family to my Tia.
We scarf down our
Habichuelas con arroz y carne
as if it is our the last meal
our taste buds will touch,
and we gulp our refresco
as if our throats are
absolutely parched.

With full stomachs,
we head out into the city.
There are vendedores in the streets,
many of them are
people who have been forced
out of their beloved countries.
There are stands on the side of the road,
people selling their
yaniqueques and their fritos.
 

The mound of limoncillos catches our eye
and draws us to them
like moths to the brightest light.
We crack them open
with our excited teeth,
our taste buds ready to
devour the sour fruit.
It hits our tongues and sends them
to paradise
as we suck the fruit away from the seed.

The music in the car rattles our eardrums,
but it feels like home.
There are horns honking
and motorcyclists
weaving in and out of the messy web of traffic.

A scrawny Haitian boy cleans
the windshield of our car,
trying to rid himself of pobreza
with each stroke of the
soaking white cloth.

Mami gives him 200 pesos
when he expects only 50.
His pearly teeth shine as we drive off
and he puts the money in his pocket.

There are women with children,
men and boys all alone,
there are viejitos walking along.
All of them have a story.
They have something to live for-
something that pushes them
to survive day in
and day out.

Who are they?
What would they tell me?
How did they get here?

I ponder this as I lick the juice
from the fruit off my fingers
and speed down the streets of
Santo Domingo.