Bok! (Go With God)

The night, the family wine swirling in my pores, my mind is calm
half asleep, I drag my illegal suitcase full of contraband
to the car.
the same song again, playing on repeat on her radio.
I don't think to ask why; she's related to me, so I understand.
We're late, since we were up all night raising up our name to the sky
via vino, food and soul, complete and unapologetic.
They call for me, and I am the last to board,
the ladies ("we are good looking, beautiful family", we are more women than men, we are strong, and stubborn and striking all) say they will drink coffee, at the airport, for me, while I fly off.
The last words I hear in the country of home are from a security airport employee who makes me take out
my hairspray to show him it is what it says it is.  Just like us, who are what we are.....his words are
"you are very beautiful woman"...my reply:
"you should see me when it's not 6 in the morning in an airport"
He smiles and I walk, medium paced to the plane. 
I am still walking at a medium pace.

M. Lucia