Olga
Olga After a double-shift day at the denim factory, Olga comes into the bodega for a bottle of sweet red wine and a pack of Salems. She smells like new blue jeans. Sighing her exhaustion, she leans on the counter while Mario gives her change, lining up quarters, nickels, and dimes in a silver road to her palm. Olga laughs and starts to sing an old Island song in a voice of melao, sugarcane syrup:cancion muy dulce y dolorosa. She hums hot sun balm into her tired limbs, conjures an ocean wind that lifts her to her feet, and hibiscus blossoms rise in a blush to her cheeks. Mario plays soft, seductive bongos on the formica, watches her moving away, hips keeping time to his beat. Out on the street, Olga braces against the chill. Cradling the bottle between her breasts, she hurries home just a few steps before night falls. 84 ...
OR
