Eulogy for the Sun-Dried Papaya
 

Recuerdo las raíces de tu árbol. Las que sobresalieron de la tierra y cubrieron el suelo del bosque como una sábana regalado por dios. Las raíces que me fascinaban en los veranos cuando los niños jugaban y se tropezaban por tu majestuosidad. Recuerdo tu olor—ay como me picaba la nariz—y los momentos cuando la mar me invitaba para recuperarme de las golpeas del sol; su olor ofreciendo una respuesta para el tuyo. También recuerdo cuando los visitantes te desenterraron para crear espacio para sus tanques.

I remember the way they look at you, sitting on porch, soaking the sun. Sus ojos peeking through the curtains in the windows across the street and next door. No te preocupes, they look at you, but they don’t judge you, they judge me. They pass our casa with their fingers on their nose, sus ojos saying mean things. I laugh, call papi over. Dice que they don’t know what they missing, que they don’t like what they don’t know, y que what they don’t know is how sweet it is inside. Pregunto si Ronald Reagan like papaya. Probably not, he say.

I remember your penchant for ruining my clothes. Countless kicks, jerseys, and snapbacks have suffered your kiss; the clear evidence against you being your infamous orange lipstick. You drip from my mouth as we sit in front of the flickering television, fueling our imaginations already filled to the brim with dreams of Enrique Potters, Pedro Parkers, Lalo Skywalkers. How great it would be if Hogwarts were in Puerto Cabezas. How wonderful it would be if the Avengers were brown. How grand it would be if Jedi Temples were Papaya Monuments.

Who are we to leave
You in favor of canned goods
And of hard candies

These smart glasses feel like they were designed by people who’ve never worn glasses

Lex Luthor washes the spectacles and puts them on his chest so his heart can see.
                                           Six miles away, scientists crush glass to make salads for bats.
Next door, the kids eat the car so they can place top five in hurdles.
The salads turn the bats into hairy men; they stand in a bowlegged stance and waddle up
                                                                                                                and down the halls.

The scientists scatter and use their asses to call for help.
                       Their cries bounce off the walls and shake a candy bowl with an assortment of
                       mixed sweets including Mars Bars, Life Savers, and Pulparindos.

The kids hop the hurdles and spot the bat men coming for them.
               Lex Luthor sees the kids, keeps the bat men as lab assistants having lured them
               away using an assortment of mixed sweets including Mars Bars, Life Savers, and
               Pulparindos.
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