Paletero

Paletero

 

There was the ice cream man, el paletero, with his dreams packed in a box with wheels, and he pushes it forward, always forward. His body was tired, so he stopped in the shade of the mesquites. Around two in the afternoon, when the sun hits harder, he waits for the high school kids near the bus stop. His body was tired, and everybody needs a break, even middle school kids that are waiting for the bus. “Buenas tardes joven, ¿qué le doy?” Tucson's sun was really playful that day, so I got an ice cream bar. He managed to talk on the phone, keep a conversation with me, get my ice cream, and give me change as if he was cooler than the ice cream. His body was tired, and the mesquite's shade was asking me to take a break too.

Arroz con Leche

That day was an ordinary day.

Ice cream bar in one hand,

the camera in my lap.

and my hopes in the bag.

Rice pudding, so simple

so ordinary, tan deseado.

Arroz con leche, refreshing memory,

melting in the desert heat.

A bar of ice cream

keeping me awake

in this ordinary dream.

Rice pudding, the only way back.