Turn the lights down

don't let them see

that we are coming

no miss I don't wear a sombrero

nor I'm I a vaquero

but I come from the south

where my roots still remain

but no in vain

I thought I was free coming here

But I can't leave

and THE MAN I can't bear

trying to catch my brown sking in despair

only to question and kick me from here to there

who would it be if not me

picking your fruit and vegetables off your trees

turn the lights down

don't let them see

I wrote this summer 2000 in Chicago