Wednesday, May 16, 2007

What's Your Story

16 May 2007, 8:37 PM

What’s your story?

Surely you didn’t plan this random
rendezvous at McDonald’s, where I wonder
as our eyes hold for a moment,
brief, then falter as I knew they would-
because a mostly white woman my age, ordering
burgers and fries to go cannot hold the eyes
of a middle-aged Mexican man working assembly
in a not-quite-restaurant without breaking
something hidden not-so-deep inside herself-

what’s your story?

How did you manage to get to this country,
much less this dead-end town, even less
this dying franchise, where you shuffle fries
and burgers into boxes for the walking-dead,
most of whom never even notice or look up at you,
much less wonder who you are, who you were
when your laugh lines formed. Did they form
from laughing or from years of troubled grief?

What’s your story?

What’s your name- are you Diego, who lost
his family and his fortune? Luis, who sought
a better life somewhere, anywhere north
of Chihuahua? Are you Tovito, who’s family
is happier here, despite the seeming lack
of dignity, for work is honor, and honor is life,
and life is precious, even here at McDonald’s.
And I walk away still wondering and aching to know,

what's your story?


Anonymous said...

I love this poem. You truly have a gift.

Maria said...

Thank you, Michelle. I really appreciate that you read what I write. Would enjoy talking with you. Will you be there Sunday?


paisley said...

maria,, that was beautiful.. i too wonder about people all the time.. what exactly is it behind the eyes that forever remains a mystery???? wonderful....

Susan Helene Gottfried said...

Wow, Maria. That's really touching -- and poignant. All the things that, all too often, we're afraid to let ourselves think.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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