Noonish

We're out on the porch.
It's hot noon.
You're coloring
With a green and red crayon.
Sweat is bubbling up
From the pores on your nose
Like your Nana and her mom too.

We had chicharrón and sparkling water
For breakfast.
Three dollars flat.
Our friend, the cashier,
Listened to my affliction
And with a kiss on your cheek
Pointed us along the Way.

I prayed that God
Would condense my words,
Like searching for the right prime,
Because there's something
Stuck to my ribs
And it's been there
Thirty-seven times.