My eyes are instantly washed with the brilliant colors of the massive papayas and dimpled lemons
Limes and bananas rub peels in a wooden basket on the cement floor
Mini plastic bolsitas sit on a bed of lentils, stuffed with soft bright spices; cumin, cinnamon, coriander, saffron; powders in plastic.
Sun splashed rafters strung with odd kinds of dangling gadgets, creating families of catholic saint statuettes, clanking pots and pans, neon painted brooms and brittle headbands
Behind the butcher’s sleek reflective counter, chicken and pig blood stain the cement floor in large and small spots
Covering plastic flimsy tables, rest synthetic plaid flowered tablecloths, the kind that are soft and cottony underneath, they host leftover pools of
Sugary fresh melon, hibiscus, and litchi juice ladled into plastic cups with fast melting ice attracting the flies
Raw meat with no refrigeration and
The rush of chatter behind counters whilst the pouring of café con leche
Baskets of ointments and dried herbs for the next ailing joint or swollen garganta
Women’s worn bare feet with splayed callused toes
Wired cages of squawking green parakeets with their ringed eyes inspect the plastic buckets of skinned raccoons
And maybe from across the room they can even see the live iguanas pilled in a bin
And then the strings of cashew nuts and caramels dangle and spin
Seated behind, women in aprons are making tortillas, “clap clap clap”
Wiping away black strands of hair from their foreheads with a floury hand.
Their laughter causes the cashews to swing
And my heart to sing!
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