Temporary Sanity

I'd watch the Muppets just to piss off
Papi. I came home briefly in my 20s:
a failure as a poet, lover, martyr.

He wanted to watch sports, but
I insisted Miss Piggy and Kermit
helped heal me. Mami would give

Papi that look: it's your fault
that your oldest son is acting like
un niño. I was always good at chess,

revenge a la my pop-up Scorpio nature.
Papi would groan and growl whenever
the maddening Swedish Chef mumbled.

This is stupid and America is stupid.
How I'd laugh, later, at the bars where
go-go boys stayed-stayed. Take that,

Papi, for not buying me those shoes
that I needed to try out for the track
team. Slowly, I became addicted to

the Muppets (all the toys I never had
come alive). My Kermit, I now live in
a city whose nickname is Frogtown

and Papi has run away to Puerto Rico,
where animals are slaughtered
before they learn to speak and sing.

Copyright © 2006 Rane Arroyo All rights reserved
from Crab Orchard Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission