In My Home, the Mission District

Your colors and art always explode

like huge colorful bombs.

The people in the street dance, sing,

blast all types of music.

The alleys with art always tell a story, like a whole book.

All the colors are similar to a bouquet of flowers.

Although my childhood places disappear

when I blink. Boom.

In 0.001 seconds the places are gone.

In my home, the Mission District,

The break-ups, bachata, cumbia, merengue,

reggaeton, mariachi, and grupos

play loudly like a baby crying.

You can even see the sound waves.

The singing and the cars doing donuts are like siblings.

Español is the language I sing.

The chisme, tea, and discussions

are blending, like smoothies in a blender.

Now music is gone, singing is gone . . .

It’s replaced with construction, cars, and traffic.

In my home, the Mission District,

Carnivals always happen like, “Surprise!”

You can smell food, ice cream, and pan dulce,

you can become addicted to these smells.

Restaurants are filled with party animals,

and people who have fun

until they’re dying like light bulbs

and emptied out like sand falling in an hourglass.

You, Mission District,

Helped me grow to who I am now

( just like my parents).

You’ve included me because I’m different, and shy, and anxious.

You say to me, “Just ignore the others, and be you!”

I hope you stay the way you are.

826 Valencia is a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students from under-resourced communities in San Francisco with their writing skills.