ICE Wants Smiles

                         Rico was crying.
I felt like crying too, but I held it.
I thought of my Dad paddling me.
“Boys don’t cry,” he’d yelled.
Such a weak child at 8, bafflingly.
~
The zip ties hurt. Too tight.
The Mask pushed us to the curb.
We leaned on each other’s might.
Mask had a walkie-talkie:
“Two for pick-up.” The Word.
~
Some vehicle would take us.
But where? A prison? A plane?
The Mask told us to smile.
Rico couldn’t; the Mask kicked him.
“I wanna see you smile!” Ticked.
~
               Rico looked at me.
I smiled at Rico and nodded.
He forced his teeth to show.
“Yah should be happy,
Yah got ta ‘njoy ‘merica!
Not no mo’, not no mo’.”
~
         The Mask stood behind.
We felt the wet on our backs.
Piss smell was foul: “Be glad
Ain’t on your face, Relax!”
~
A black truck braked.
Inside we saw so many.
How would we fit?
The Mask pushed Rico in
And me on top of him.
                 The door slammed.
“You boys stink!” a woman said
To my back, under us crammed.
~
              Rico started to cry.
“Jesus, can you tell us why?”
This time, I did too.
“Dad, where are you?”