CUBAN GIRL...
It's like being born with spices in your blood and being named after your papi's favorite cigars.
It's getting diamonds pierced in your ears after five days of birth, wearing Royal Violets cologne every day until age 15, (still do) and throwing a fifteenth birthday party that costs your parents more than your first car.
It's loving Marti and hating Castro. Lighting candles at Mass for "La Caridad del Cobre"; and having to kiss every Cuban cheek like you're related.
It's looking European, but feeling Caribbean; And seething inside while smiling politely when someone asks if you're Puerto Rican.
It's meals at every party; parties for every occasion.
It's serving your skinny uncle piles of "lechon" on "Nochebuena"
while your three hundred pound aunt drinks crema de vie.
It's having Turkey with white rice and black beans,
and flan with a slice of pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving.
It's eating the "cuban" birthday cake wishing you had Carvel;
It's the "Little white boxes" at birthday parties filled with 1 pastelito de carne, 1 tamal, 2 croquetas, a bocadito and maybe a toy!
It's learning to dance merengue and salsa (before Salsa Lovers) from your papi or tio or abuelito and knowing the difference between a guajira and a guaracha.
It's being able to sing The Star Spangled Banner and hum the Cuban National Anthem. (Some of us actually had to memorize the words!)
It's knowing at least two lines of the Guantanamera's lyrics.
It's having cafe con leche for breakfast, Burger King for Lunch, and chuletas de puerco, arroz blanco y garbanzos or chicharos for dinner and a slice of apple pie for dessert.
It's loving the hot, humid air of Miami;
It's drinking cortaditos;
It's eating guayaba, cream cheese and crackers;
It's knowing that "this never happened in Cuba";
It's dealing with chaperonas;
It's a certain sexiness in the way she walks and the twinkle in the eyes of any Cuban woman;
It's talking too fast in English
and running your words together in Spanish.
It's being born and raised in a free country and being madly in love with a restless island you've never even seen...(Our grandparents would be proud)
It's getting diamonds pierced in your ears after five days of birth, wearing Royal Violets cologne every day until age 15, (still do) and throwing a fifteenth birthday party that costs your parents more than your first car.
It's loving Marti and hating Castro. Lighting candles at Mass for "La Caridad del Cobre"; and having to kiss every Cuban cheek like you're related.
It's looking European, but feeling Caribbean; And seething inside while smiling politely when someone asks if you're Puerto Rican.
It's meals at every party; parties for every occasion.
It's serving your skinny uncle piles of "lechon" on "Nochebuena"
while your three hundred pound aunt drinks crema de vie.
It's having Turkey with white rice and black beans,
and flan with a slice of pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving.
It's eating the "cuban" birthday cake wishing you had Carvel;
It's the "Little white boxes" at birthday parties filled with 1 pastelito de carne, 1 tamal, 2 croquetas, a bocadito and maybe a toy!
It's learning to dance merengue and salsa (before Salsa Lovers) from your papi or tio or abuelito and knowing the difference between a guajira and a guaracha.
It's being able to sing The Star Spangled Banner and hum the Cuban National Anthem. (Some of us actually had to memorize the words!)
It's knowing at least two lines of the Guantanamera's lyrics.
It's having cafe con leche for breakfast, Burger King for Lunch, and chuletas de puerco, arroz blanco y garbanzos or chicharos for dinner and a slice of apple pie for dessert.
It's loving the hot, humid air of Miami;
It's drinking cortaditos;
It's eating guayaba, cream cheese and crackers;
It's knowing that "this never happened in Cuba";
It's dealing with chaperonas;
It's a certain sexiness in the way she walks and the twinkle in the eyes of any Cuban woman;
It's talking too fast in English
and running your words together in Spanish.
It's being born and raised in a free country and being madly in love with a restless island you've never even seen...(Our grandparents would be proud)
soñé contigo anoche. dolió mucho. vi tu cara. sentí tu toque. recordé lo que sentía a tu lado. no quise despertarme. sentía tan verdadero pero supe que era un sueño. y traté de aguantar. el teléfono sonó y desapareciste.
El tiempo no ha logrado que te olvide.
no ha borrado las huellas de tu amor.
todavia siento el sabor de tus besos en mi boca.
todavia siento tus manos acariendome la piel.
Y yo no quiero seguir asi, estando con ella y pensando en ti.
A mi me esta pasando igual, no dejo de pensar en ti.
hay dia que me levanto contigo en la cabeza, lo llamo por tu nombre.
Y yo no quiero seguir asi, estando con ella y pensando en ti.
que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y amandonos.
que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y aun amandonos.
y yo no quiero seguir asi, estando con ella y pensando en ti.
A mi me esta pasando igual no dejo de pensar en ti.
hay dia que me levanto contigo en la cabeza, lo llamo por tu nombre.
Y yo no quiero seguir asi, estando con ella y pensando en ti.
que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y amandonos.
que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y aun amandonos.
todavia no me acostumbro ni al cafe hecho por sus manos.
me sabe mal, no es como el tuyo.
Y yo, cuando siento sus caricias, cierro los ojos y pienso en ti.
que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y amandonos.
que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y aun amandonos.
Que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y amandonos.
que tontos que locos somos tu y yo, estando con otros y aun amandonos.
Que tontos.
