EAST SALINAS

Here except for the national flag
And the money in ATMs
All are Mexican:
Mexican faces, Mexican sounds, Mexican signs
Downtown Salinas is a ghost town
I do not worry about parking space
But here on East Alisal
I see active traffic
I see big bus unloading farmers
Their rubber boots covered with mud
I hear Mariachi blasting in the air
I saw ballerinas waving flames of colors
I smell roasted pork from the food store
The lovely eyes of a baby girl
Look at me from her mother’s arms
Fleshy, dark, strong
As if wondering why my face
Is so different from the others
Finally at Mi Pueblo
I see an Asian cashier
Who tells me she is not Korean
But from the Land of Flower
Happily, we throw at each other native words
As I check out my grocery

AT THE JOHN STEINBECK LIBRARY

It is not 3 pm yet
A line has formed at the door
A man holding floppy disks in his hand
Two men in too much clothing
Carrying bulging backpacks
A woman with her daughter or sister
Holding piles of videos and books
Mused I: everyone uses the library
Except scholars
I looked at John Steinbeck
Who seemed shorter than I
Grinning under the hot summer sun