The Yearning Feed

THE DESERT SERIES

THE DESERT SERIES ______________________ Sometimes I think my tongue is a desert praying for rain! —Benjamin Alire Sáenz ______________________ 6 ______________________ Carlos’s moms used to warn us about staring directly into the growling solesaso: “A desert sun,” she said, “shouldn’t ever be messed with. That fat ass in the sky will turn on you like a wild turkey in November.” With this, she paused, examining her fingernails like a cool-headed Shaolin Kung fu master, slowly, methodically. “Shit, it’s kind of like all of us in this Valley,” she continued, “our don’tfuck -with-us attitude would have made Miles Davis stutter.” For effect, Carlos’s moms balled her hands into two bony fists and shook them in our faces. “The sun’s power is raw, mijitos. The thing will bleach your eyes out in a second if it catches you staring without its permission.” “Does that mean we’ll go blind,” we fired back, afraid of the impending danger, knowing our curiosity would eventually get the best of us—we’d be blinded by twelve! In response, Carlos’s moms glanced from left to right, then shook her fists in our faces again and scowled, revealing her famous, perfect teeth, and her equally famous dimple that winked from the depths of her cheek, an indentation of seduction that broke men like Chicano Kryptonite from the Imperial Valley to Fresno, California. With our heads down, this might be the reason why we were so damn good at soccer. ______________________ 7 ______________________ During the Imperial Valley summers the chicharras buzzed constantly . Between the chicharras and the perpetual drone of the airconditioner motors, Hollywood-worthy sound effects spread across our town like a horror movie soundtrack for those who couldn’t afford to be indoors. ______________________ 8 ...