Little Brown Brother

I've always wanted to play the part

of that puckish pubescent Filipino boy

in those John Wayne Pacific-War movies.

Pepe, Jose, or Juanito would be smiling,

bare-chested and eager to please

for most of the steamy jungle scenes.

I'd be the one who would cross

the Japanese lines and ask for tanks,

air support, or more men. I'd miraculously

make it back to the town where John Wayne

is holding his position against the enemy

with his Thompson machine-gun. As a reward,

he'd rub that big white hand on my head

and he'd promise to let me clean

his Tommy gun by the end of the night. But

then, a Betty Grable look-a-like love

interest would divert him by sobbing

into his shoulder, saying how awfully scared

she is about what the "Japs" would do

to her if she were captured. In one swift

motion, John Wayne would sweep her off

her feet to calm her fears inside his private quarters.

Because of my Hollywood ability

to be anywhere, I'd be under the bed

watching the woman roll down her stockings

as my American hero unbuckles his belt

I'd feel the bottom of the bed bounce off my chest

as small-arms fire explodes outside the walls.

Source: El Grupo McDonald's (Tia Chucha, 1995)