"You" By Julia Alvarez

You

By: Julia Alvarez

I love how English has a single you,

no tu, usted, no trying to figure out 

where strangers ran in the hierarchy

of my respect: are you a formal 

or familiar you? No asking permission

or apologizing if I get it wrong. 

I love the true democracy of you.

The pampered son of the dot-com millionaire

or the coal miner's daughter - all are you,

united in one no-nonsense pronoun. 

Comforting when I write because it means 

I'm leaving no one out, even a line

intended for an intimate includes

you, and also you. In this, my Noah's ark,

everyone is invited and can board

in two or threes or singly - those unborn 

as well as ghostly antepasados

who use to be usted and now are dust. 

At sea in mystery, we all became 

human cargo down the generations. 

Once you get used to you, all faces seem

to hold the face you love, and each child could be

the one you never had, each girl the girl 

you use to be or who your mother was. 

You is inclusive like that Beetle ad where linebackers kept piling into a car - 

I forget what the point was, but I'd watch

and understand their yearning to be one.

Just as I once climbed into a second tongue

and made room for me in its pronoun.