when I came to this country
como se dice, “on or off the boat”
there was a girl with dark eyes and hair
that hair- whispering across the port
I was a boy at the time
knowing nothing of relevance and
unable to express myself to
those around who knew the difference
but these years later, still
I think of her and the name
I pretend she told me that day
on the docks, the cattlelines
men yelling and women guiding
as I was stripped and inspected
for diseases and lice by a man
who spoke a language not my own,
nor any I have heard since
men guiding and women yelling
“welcome to the new world, boy”
stripping and inspecting
as I think of her and the name
Gloria (a Dios), spoken on the moist lips
of a life lived all the more sinfully liquid
a man at this or that time, as if there were
something of a difference or a way to express it
how I have longed for her,
that sense of connectedness,
two souls, meeting with our eyes
when I came to this country