Un Buen Sopresa

As I bolted out of a building

On the far side of campus

A short, grey haired man in his 60s

Burst out of a work truck and asked

“¿Donde esta Javier?” (Where’s Javier?)

Not thinking, I replied,

“¿Cual Javier?” (Which Javier?)

He held up a flier.

I knew which Javier.

“Me llamo Chuck,” I said (I’m Chuck).

“Mario,” he said, pointing to his truck,

Which said “Mario’s Flooring.”

The flier was for a photography exhibit,

I told him I’d take him there,

He hastily locked his bright red Ford

And we walked off.

“¿Conoces Javier?”

Yes, I know Javier,

And Mario told me how excited he was

That he was going to surprise Javier

That he’d driven in all the way from McAllen

Where they’d goth grown up.

“¿Es una sopresa?” I asked.

Yes, he told me, it was a surprise.

I kept speaking Spanish

The language he first spoke to me

But he answered his phone once

And talked to a customer in English.

We sketched out a plan

As we approached the library

Where Javier’s photos were displayed

We entered

I am tall and wide

Mario is short and slim

He easily hid

In my wake

I walked in

Javier saw me,

Smiled, called my name

And I turned sharp left

Revealing Mario.

Javier’s face lit up,

A smile as wide as the sun,

Seeing his childhood friend.

Beside himself, Javier said,

“You came!”

Fue un buen sopresa.

It was a good surprise.