No Midnight Snacks
Midnight eats? I know we had none.
We went to bed way before then. By
Ten we were done, spinning dreams,
All in one cot. But had yummy bites
Most nights, mainly leftovers turned
Into craved late snacks, our Mexican
Cracker Jacks. Tortillas that crackled,
Splashed with hints of this and that,
Mainly reheated beans scraped off a
Pan that became a day’s end delight.
Humble, routine, tasty food for a pack
Of girls and boys about to hit the sack.
*
Cri-Cri (crē-crē)
We listened to fun ditties every dawn,
Mainly me, sung by someone named
Cri-Cri, about La patita, a nice momma
Duck, and El ratón vaquero, a mouse
And cowboy, and about El ropavejero,
A sort of yard sales’ buyer with pluck.
*
I’d sit by a radio, the old fashion kind,
And give heed to tunes and many a plot,
Filling my mind with music and tales,
Catchy songs packed with funny details.
*
It would be great if Cri-Cri was still
Around, or others like him, to coin and
Sing about piglets that sleep late, a boy
That doesn’t behave, a chocolate king
And his fate, the little road to school,
But most of all, a spider that’s no fool.