To the busted water pipes,

and to the boys and girls

To the hair and names

and to the cats.

To the five dollars to buy a bike.

To the laughter

and the old music box and the two broken arms.

To the yellow Cadillac

and to the one’s who don’t

and Marin in Puerto Rico.

To the fallen Angel Varagas,

to Alicia who sees mice.

To the fool Daruis who

saw God as a cloud.

To the Eskimos with thirty names for snow,

and to the chicken lips and cold frjoles.

To the family of little feet

and the high heels that were no fun in the end.

To the special kids who eat in the canteen,

and my ugly old saddle shoes.

To the hips that grow and what their for,

and the Peter Pan Photo Finishers and its break room.

To Papa whose tired because abuelito is dead

and how family stays together.

To the disease that made Aunt Guadalupe sick

and the game with eyeless disease.

and the homes in the hearts.

To the dances Geradlo danced

and to the only grown up who likes to play.

To the Earl of Tennessee

and to Sire who looks at me and has a girlfriend.

To the four skinny trees who have pointy elbows like mine

and to the Mamacita and her boy.

To Rafaela who drinks coconut & papaya juice on Tuesdays

and to Sally who is two people.

To the poems and to the bums

and to the women who are beautiful and cruel.

To the cookies and what Sally’s dad did to her.

To the monkey garden and to the red clowns

and to the linoleum roses.

To the wish and what it was for.

To the house, 4006 Mango

and to how I’ll leave it for a house of my own.

To the goodbyes and the hellos.

I say goodbye and farewell to the house on Mango street

and hello to my new life.