Penelope’s mother tries to be magnanimous
by taking us both to El Charro.
I’ve always thought when a restaurant
claims to be authenic, it can’t.

That P is my great granddaughter
is a fact she knows but hides 
like a dirty secret.

P is radiant with trouble.
She (and everyone else it seems)
got notice that her graduate program
has been suspended and her Indian husband

may have his green card revoked.
The great purge has started
but Penelope is aglow,
ebullient might be the word.

Suddenly I know something
that simply evades P’s mom.
(Can you guess what it is?)
Now she’s on her feet
calling for the mariachi band
clapping her hands
and dancing me across the floor