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The Bilingual review, 2012-05, Vol.31 (2), p.192-200
Ort / Verlag
San Antonio: The Bilingual Review/La Revista Bilingüe
Erscheinungsjahr
2012
Link zum Volltext
Quelle
Alma/SFX Local Collection
Beschreibungen/Notizen
More instruments joined in, but all he heard was bop-bop-bop-bop-bop-A?/>/ The drumbeats flowed into Rafa, flooding him with unexpected joy, as if a flock of birds inside his chest had woken up and were slowly loosening their wings and taking flight, bop-bop-bop-bop-bop-¿o/>/ Now, two months later in his living room on Shotwell Street, Rafa pounded on the milk crate along to the Santana LP, sweating and straining to reproduce that elusive, driving rhythm that ran ahead of his aching fingers . . The boys looked up to Nelson, a college-educated homie who'd grown up on Nineteenth Street across from Nickel's Pool, and no doubt Nelson was smart, but Rafa had yet to see a movie star with dark skin, jet-black hair, and a gap in his front teeth like his own. Rafa's feet rose into the air and he sailed with the cello past the old security guard into the blurred streets he'd known since forever, his body dripping sweat and Max Factor, barreling past mamas with babies, darting past girls throwing jacks and little kids on trikes, his shoes skimming above the concrete sidewalks, weaving through four lanes of honking cars on South Van Ness Avenue, feeling his heart about to explode he sped past dilapidated Victorians and auto repair shops, the youth center, the elementary school, Kilpatrick's Bread Factory.