Lots in Life - June 13, 2026

I hear rapid Spanish among the piles

of green and brown palm fronds

it’s the yearly trim of palm trees

happening outside my glass slider,

when my peace is invaded by chain saws

and gloved and dark-clothed strangers

they see me, cold drink on a sofa,

I wave then one turns, gathers a huge stack

of the cuttings, hoists them on a sweat-soaked

back and carries them off to the truck

I suddenly think of our lots in life,

what we were born into, wondering

what they think when they stare at me

if it’s that white, wealthy, lucky look,

or one that wonders about a different

life from theirs’s, that spans the great

divide of lives, or to put it more simply,

the new monkey in the zoo

I go outside and practice their language,

it’s not bad and while they respond

with cautious English and subdued looks

it’s when I leave, I hear giggly Spanish

and of course, I’m convinced

I’m now that monkey behind bars