dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Tuesday, December 25, 2018

bailar

Mom gave me riches in the form of postage stamps, cash, costco gift cards, and Trader Joe's gift cards.  "I never want you to be hungry," she said.

I told her I wanted to play with the gift cards, but I didn't want to be like Scrooge McDuck counting my money.  Swimming in a swimming pool of gold.

There are Scooby Doo stamps.  Scooby is watering a flower in a flower pot with a watering can that he holds in his mouth.  He looks slightly awkward and very earnest.  Good dog.

The cd said it was a certain album, but Dad had put a bonus song at the beginning.  Mom danced as she swept the floor, making small, fancy steps.  "You look like you know what you're doing," I said.  "Did you ever dance like that?"  It was Mexican dancing.

When they lived in Santa Barbara, walking to the courthouse, seeing the colorful dancers.

"No," she said, sweeping.

I remember when my friend was a baile folklorico dancer.  He had a performance at the big haunted auditorium at Santa Maria High.  His mom was working as an admissions cashier, and I didn't have enough money to get in.

"I could cover one of my eyes and pay half," I told her.  "I could stay for just the first part."

She laughed at me, thought I was ridiculous, and paid my way.  I probably already told you about that.

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