La Tamalera
Luis R Conriquez
The Tamale Vendor
I was in my truck
One Sunday afternoon
I saw a cart on the corner
A woman was selling tamales
The Sun was intense
But hunger was even more intense
When I saw the green light
I moved forward thoughtfully
I looked in the mirror
I had sensed something
I saw a motorcycle approaching
And someone showed a knife
The tamale vendor with her hands raised
Watched as they took away
The money earned with so much sacrifice
The food for her children waiting at home
My blood boiled
I couldn't stay still
I didn't hesitate to stop it
With the gun on his forehead
Before sending him to hell
I made him apologize
And return what he had stolen
I looked, ma'am
Here is the one who robbed you
You tell us what to do
We can finish him off now
Because he deserves no less
And I uncovered his face
And she couldn't believe it
She cried loudly
The thief was her son
To feed his vices
He robbed his own mother
And trampled on her sacrifices
Please, don't do anything to him
I deserve this punishment
For not knowing how to raise you
Ungrateful son
