PAN DULCE
I remember riding my fenderless bike
to la panadería del pueblo
sometimes I would go alone
sometimes I would dream
I took abuelo by the hand
I remember pan dulce tasting even sweeter
after confessing my sins
at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church
nothing like dulcified bread
for crucified bones
I remember standing in front of the glass displays
telling el panadero I’ll take one of these
and one of those and one of these
unlike the cool pachuco who came in
asking for pan de polvo un regalo
y un hueso azucarado to go
I had not mastered the names of pan dulce
so imagine my thrill imagine the authority
in my chavalón bones when I returned
asking for dos huesos azucarados
two sugared bones to go
I remember pan dulce
la Virgen de Guadalupe
bordered by blue neon lights
and how the smell of canela
reminded me of abuelito’s piloncillo skin