The Stories that Photo Albums Forget

I remember second and third generation Americans,
Croatians roasting pigs
and hot bowls of polenta at sunrise;
Sunday dinners of Roast beef and Yorkshire puddings;
American cartoons of vampire bunnies and ducks,
Super heroines and witches;
Guava pastries and fried plantains,
watching roosters run into the street;
Driving to the islands,
and an old family recipe for Key Lime pie.

They say, we are the culmination
of everything we have ever been.
I remember the effulgence
of Roman Catholicism and Santeria;
Wearing white for communion,
desirous of candles and arcane possessions;
Dreaming about a sun-drenched Apocalpyse.

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