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"Esperanco el bús en Chicago y la calle 38"
On Chicago and 38th, people wait
They wait for the gas tank to top off,
for the bus to rumble up, doors opening swish hiss,
for the light to change along with their luck.
They wait to cross the street, as if the other side is any different,
and for the call to lay down their prayer rugs and face
a city a world away from this Midwestern town.
They wait for customers to step through the door,
for lost souls to find their way
to the right side of the theological debate.
They wait for the check to come,
for the numbers on the lottery ticket
to finally line up in the right order.
They wait for the food shelf to open,
for hair to be braided, buzzed, snipped, and clipped,
for the latest fashions to hit the racks.
They wait for Prince Charming,
for an easy score,
for something other to do than wait.
They wait for the rain to stop,
the snow to be shoveled,
the day's heat to give way to evening's cool grace.
They wait to be grown up, adolescents
jangly with hormones and glimpses of the future,
and for this tired life to finally peter out.
They wait to lay their head on the table, foreclosure notice in hand,
for the shiny proud key to their first apartment,
for a shelter from every kind of storm.
They wait to break a heart, to seal a deal,
to damage property, to repair
a wrecked car, to be served a meal.
On the corner of Chicago and 38th, the people wait.
Perdóname por no tener ni tiempo ni capacidad para traducir este poema al español, pero en resumen se trata de todos los que esperaban, ambos por cosas literales y ideas metaforicas, en la esquina de Chicago y la calle 38.
Aria Dominguezpoemmanwomanbaby in strollerwaiting for busChicago and 38th