My Father Sings, to My Embarrassment
BY SANDRA M. CASTILLO

at Las Villas, a small Carol City bar with a makeshift stage,
where he spends too much time drinking,
pretending he can learn to play the guitar at forty-five,
become a singer, a musician,
who writes about "Que Difícil Es...."
to live in Spanish in Miami,
a city yet to be translated,
in a restaurant where he has taken us for Cuban food,
where I sit, frozen, unable to make a sound,
where Mother smiles,
all her teeth exposed,
squeezes my hand,
where Mae and Mitzy hide
under the table shielding them from shame
with a blood-red tablecloth,
leaving my mother and me,
pale-faced, trapped by the spotlight shining in our eyes,
making it difficult for us to pretend
we do not know the man in the white suit
pointing to us.

父亲唱歌，记我的囧事
桑德拉·蔓·卡斯蒂罗

在拉斯维拉斯，一个叫颂歌城的小酒吧里有个临时舞台
他花大把时间在那儿喝酒
假装自己可以在四十五岁学会弹吉他
成为歌手，成为音乐家
就像那些写出“Que Difícil Es....”的家伙
生活在迈阿密的西班牙

一个没有中文名字的城市
他带我们去餐馆吃古巴餐
当时我僵坐着，不能发出声音
当时老妈笑着
露出了所有的牙
还使劲攥着我的手

当时梅和美琪藏在
桌子下，用血红的桌布
权当抵挡羞辱的盾牌

把我和老妈晾在那儿
被晃眼的追光灯罩住，脸煞白
这让我们都没法假装不认识他——
那个指着我们
穿白西装的男人