“Ven Bailalo”

by Ava Weatherford

Driving to school, driving to a funeral.

As Shakira says, “Whenever, Wherever”.

If the conversation stops for even a second,

if she's angry, if she's sad.

There's no place too embarrassing,

no place too white.

I actively avoid 104.3

for fear that in the quiet car a certain song might come on

“Ven Bailalo, la rumba esta buena..”

¡AYYYYEEEE AVAA TURN IT UP!

Aye dios mio.

We swerve, my knuckles whiten.

Her shoulders shake, they shimmy,

The last thought on her mind is driving.

Aye dios mio.

I shoot her a look, but nothing can stop it.

My dad puts his head in his hands.

“Baila, mi morena ese swing salvaje”

The only thing she isn't doing at this point is standing up to dance.

She loves this music, it's a beautiful thing,

If not in the car.

Latin music,

Cumbia, bolera, mambo, guaracha,

a reminder of her childhood, a rhythm you can lose yourself in.

Dancing with the whole body,

but the shoulders and hips most of all.

It's something you crave once you've had a taste,

And this is why we don't put it on in the car.