Conversations with Mariana

"Pokey"

"Tea? Dada Tea?"

Lift a stone, dig a ditch, uproot a stump

We Commute to Computers

"Yo, our activism attackin the system, the blacks and latins in prison
Numbers of prison they victim black in the vision
Shit and all they got is rappin to listen to
I let them know we missin you, the love is unconditional
Even when the condition is critical, when the livin is miserable
Your position is pivotal, I ain't bullshittin you
Now, why would I lie? Just to get by?"

Which way will we go now on our trip to taller windows?

'and, moreover the changes take place inside'

August 10, 2010

Just a few days ago I was able to pick up a copy of your birth certificate, Mariana.

This is the revised one, that is, the one that should have been written up when you were born.

2 years later, I'm finally able to hold it in my hands. This document is part of what I've been fighting for all this time.

The document that finally acknowledges me as a father.

I held you so close the whole time I was waiting in queue for that birth certificate, I thought they would never give it to me.

I haven't been so overwhelmed in so long.

In the parking lot I clutched the documents and strapped you in the car.

A 2 year labor? Is this the release that needed to happen? Is this everything I've been waiting for?

I've been a father in practice if not on paper, so it's been pretty complicated hasn't it? Can I even say that of myself? 

You and me kiddo, we blasted right east on the highway, your papa pumping his fist into the car's ceiling.

And you know what song was playing on the way out of the parking lot of that office?

Mariana I've missed so much and it hurts so badly.

Hello? Hello Mariana? Hello?