Our neighbor Mrs. Esquivel
insists I haul her giant cactus away.
It’s planted in a bucket.
Gives you thorns
when you barely brush past it.
Me no like it, please take, please help me,
she says again and again.
Me old. No good. Too big. It bites.
She’s busy hanging four white socks
on her clothesline.
I return
with our green wheelbarrow.
The cactus tips over a lot
traveling to our house.
It’s a cumbersome cactus.
Skin on fire. This cactus has a bad attitude.
Me no like it either but now
it’s mine mine mine.