The aunts and uncles described in the first part of the poem, who we thought were just slightly silly, now seem kind of menacing – their freshly powdered faces hiding something more sinister. The children are also seen in a different light now. Once we thought that the narrator was optimistic about their "treasures." But if the narrator doesn't feel any family ties, then maybe there treasure will never be understood by the aunts and uncles described later.
My brother usually took me somewhere to get me away from the awkwardness and rudeness when our grandmother came. Like when Basa says, "We come to a grass clearing, my wife rolls her jeans up past ankles, wades ice cold stream, and I barefooted, carry a son in each arm and follow." Here the audience gets a breath of fresh air. We were feeling somewhat alarmed after the narrator pulled the rug from underneath of us before, but now that he and his smaller family have taken a break from the party, maybe he can find some peace. However, Basa came to the realization that "We cannot afford a place like this." Once again, the narrator shocks us with a cutting one liner. Suddenly our perception of the lines that came before must change again. We thought that the narrator was making some "headway," putting some distance between him and his extended family, and enjoying the beautifully described nature of the mountains. Now, after this one line, it appears that this little hike that they went on was entirely worthless. In fact, it's only exposed one of the reasons why he does not feel like he belongs at this fancy mountain barbecue. He and his smaller family can't afford a life like this. He is economically alienated from the rest of his family.
As the poem comes to a close the audience can't help but be on their guard. At this point they've been tricked into complacency twice, only to have their expectations of a warm family gathering shattered.
