Developing Boll 

By Aimeé-Anali San Miguel 

 

12 hour days, 12 cents per pound, 12 people in the house

12 is the lucky number

If only he had 12 fingers

To accompany his 12 callouses;

To aid in the 12 steps of picking, pricking, and presenting the fluff.

Which is anything but soft.

Born from the arduous labor of farm work

His lifestyle is anything but lucky

***

6 classes I hate, 6 people I love, 6 lives in the house

6 is my lucky number, accept–

With one year added, 7 is the age I learned Columbus’ name shouldn’t be capitalized

From the capitalism this nation was built upon.

The 6 times a day I spend wondering what my life would be if I was luckier.

If I had 6 more hours a day, 6 more hours of sleep, 6 more dollars, 6 more stickers to put on my wall, 6 more people to love, 6 more minutes to think, 6 more hair products, 6 more talents, 6 more brains, 6 more pens, 6 more pairs of pants, 6 more–

He wishes he had 12 less worries, and 12 more years.

The unluck splits

Un–luck

I am the half

But 6 is everything but lucky 

***

12, is the years he spent unaware

12, is not lucky

Not for him

12, is the years I spent listening

12, is lucky

To me

–They say you spend 90% of the time you’ll have with your parents by the time you turn 18.–

***

His calluses were breed from the poverty line he continues to walk on

Even when a wide-paved road with my footprints left in wet concrete sits next to him

My calluses were born of middle-class wealth, self-inflicted. 

(When impoverished do it, it’s trashy, when wealth does it, it’s classy.)

12 and 6 may not be lucky, but for the 18 years he and I will share,

my calluses will be trashy

Because the apple doesn’t fall 

far from the tree.

 

Aimee-Anali San Miguel is a Sophomore in the Creative Writing Department at HSPVA in Houston, Texas. She is known for her passionate work and unique perspective of the world. Currently, her favorite song is “tolerate it” by Taylor Swift.