hold my disingenuous smile 
as I sigh and try
to understand whatever my abuela has been rambling on about for a good while
I’ll laugh along as my friends tease me 
for my lack of a spice tolerance  
I’ll weep and weep as I think about how good of a daughter I could be 
If I didn’t gag at the thought of a chorizo 
If I didn’t roll my eyes at the gritos bellowed from the men outside 
I know I could have fun. 
if i just knew how to speak more than a sentence 
If I had the advantage 
I’ll keep trying and trying to be more than just the slivers that I have taken 
But i’m afraid i’ll never be enough 
for the culture I have been given