"sosa's grocery" contemplates love, safety, and hurt during one pivotal moment between two young primas. Love was shared through the little snacks the primas could choose during their grandparents' shifts at the family store. Safety, they learned, was earned by always sticking together and knowing what paths they could go (and avoid). However, their relationship fractures and they hurt. Today, Sosa's Grocery is torn down and the carceral spaces continue to expand. The primas don't protect each other anymore, but there is hope they could return to this liminal space called sosa's. In this hope, there is effort to reconcile and learn how to care for each other once more.

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sosa's grocery store
bridgeton, new jersey | summer 2007

we remember how to look
up the hill and the morning sun beams.
can’t see over where concrete and blue sky meet.
but it doesn’t matter because 
if we look down, see how the sidewalk falls?
sooooo steep.

my cousin and i are not allowed to walk on broad street. 
not up past the city jail and its droopy barbed wires, 
not down past the bail bond shop and its peeling storefront. 
and definitely not past the gravel rocks sprawling out from the back lot. 
our sweaty limbs don’t go past the wooden steps leading down from the apartment.
though, one place we could go on our own was next door to 
the was-is-never-always mexican store 
called sosa’s grocery.

   beepbeepbeep,
              fru-uhnt door, the doorwoman says astutely.

Bendición! we sing-song to everyone.                         ( sang ) 
the store belongs to my tio and tia.                         ( belonged )
it’s right below our bedroom.                                ( was )
por necesitar, our grandparents work here          ( worked there )
and with nowhere else to go, we play here.         ( played there )
hungry, we snack                                   ( we snacked )
on stretchy string oaxaca cheese and hide          ( and hid ) 
from customers and quietly giggle behind the deli display.   ( and giggled )
we sit on milk crates, next to grandma’s feet                ( we sat )
the red plastic criss-cross brands our buttcheeks.           ( branded ) 
we whisper and argue                                         ( whispered ; argued )
over who grandma loves more                                  ( loved ) 
and you cry when i tell you she said it’s me                 ( cried ; said ; was )

primita, i’m sorry.
primita, please wait. i should not have let her say that.
come, primita, take my hand, please. 
eat my snacks, eat everything, please.
let me know, i’ll be ready, when you want to come 
back inside the was-is-never-always store called sosa’s grocery