I am a plastic Mexican Jesus
on a dashboard
a cold hard mold with seams where
doubts grow
I am imbued with the faith of a child
with a father who works for nothing
and sits on the couch with sex eyes
I am the daughter Carmen
with swollen lips and see-through
dresses
who stays away after school
so she won’t have to play that game
I am the thin plastic frame that
sits on your bathroom sill
watching what you do when no one is
around
But I am not whatever you are
and that’s the main thing
