My People

My people are
Great mimics

Just the other
Night I saw them
Swallow up the
Night, becoming
The night, wearing
The stars in their skin

A pinoy waling into
A microphone taking
The shape of a Philadelphia
Singer, chords plucked from
The Philly streets until the
Club became Philadelphia
And Then Pinoydelphia
And every color bird became
That other place where feathers
Were preened and glasses sat
Stoically in their ice

My people tap dance
On water and become
Water, moving, even
While still, at every pace,
Becoming the pace, the
Hop skip and jump

My people can
Pop wheelies on
A unicycle while
Popping popcorn
And the pimples on
Their faces

My people are
Great mimics, taking
The shape of an hour
Glass and turning it into
24 hours

My people are great
Mimics with their share
Of gimmicks, becoming
Ideas that do not sit
Still, cutting loose like fire

My people are
Great mimics

They become the
Tires on the road,
The nightsticks, the
Cars whose lips
Point towards you and
Away from you

They mimic the
Clouds, the lava
And the lizard

They mimic mirrors
That deflect any
Memory of mimicry

They take the shape
Of the wind as it
Collects in their
Palms

My people are
Great mimics

They mimic the
Flute with cavernous
Throats that pop off popcorn
Melodies, coughing up
Peanut shells and candy
Wrappers

My people are
Great mimics

But they do
Not mimic
Pain

Pain mimics
Them

(C) 2017 Tony Robles

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