Anyway.
That poem, by the way, came from the banned book.
The book that was banned right here in Tucson.
I've been waiting for years to come back
here and read that poem to an audience in Tucson, Arizona.
So thank you for being here.
[LAUGHTER]
[APPLAUSE]
See, I actually think this is a funny book.
Allow me to illustrate my thesis further.
So this next poem is also from the prohibited volume.
And I should say, at the same time
I was practicing law in Boston.
I was also practicing poetry.
And I began doing readings in high schools and prisons.
Discovered they had an awful lot in common.
And at some places I went, people
were quite familiar with what I had to say.
In other places, not so much.
In some places, in fact, they'd never
seen a Puerto Rican before and they had expectations.
Call them stereotypes, if you will.
Concerning what I was supposed to look like,
what I was supposed to sound like,
how tall I was supposed to be, whether or not
I was supposed to speak with an accent,
and especially, what I was supposed to wear.
So naturally a poem came out of it.
This poem was based on an actual conversation
I had with a teacher the night before I visited a school
in the suburbs of Boston.
And I won't say which suburb it was.
Needham.
[LAUGHTER]
This is called "My Native Costume."
[LAUGHTER]
When you come to visit, said a teacher
from the suburban school, don't forget
to wear your native costume.
[LAUGHTER]
But I'm a lawyer, I said.
My native costume is a pinstripe suit.
You know, the teacher said, a Puerto Rican costume.
Like a guayabera, the shirt?
I said, but it's February.
The children want to see a native costume,
the teacher said.
So I went to the suburban school,
embroidered guayabera, a short sleeve shirt over a turtleneck.
And said, look kids, cultural adaptation.
[LAUGHTER]