Willy Chirino, Pedro Pan kid turned Cuban-American salsero, has an offer for Raúl. Yeah, that Raúl, Fidel Castro's little brother now running that prison paradise across the Florida Straits.

``We have on many occasions proposed to the Cuban government a real, honest `cultural exchange,' '' he tells me on a recent evening, energized from the controversy swirling after Colombian singer Juanes sang at Havana's Revolutionary Square.

``Let them pick and choose a bunch of their artists, the ones that represent the revolution the most . . . and come here to this city in the place they choose for a concert in which they express exactly what it is they want to express. Freedom for the five spies or whatever,'' Chirino tells me, taking a dramatic pause for effect.

In exchange, he notes ``let us Cuban artists who live outside the island, Gloria Estefan, my wife Lissette [Alvarez], Marisela Verena, Amaury Gutierrez, Albita [Rodriguez], just to mention a few'' hold a concert in Cuba with Cuban punk rockers like Gorki Aguila, rappers like Silvito El Libre and other artists who ``really have the courage inside the island to be able to use their music as a way of communicating the real struggle.''

Wouldn't you start a riot? I ask him.

Nope, he sighs. Chirino's songs about every man's longing for freedom, about Consolación del Sur, the little town he grew up in Pinar del Rio's tobacco country, his crooning about the jinetera prostituting herself in Havana to help her family survive -- all ring true for Cubans on the island. Nuestro Día Ya Viene Llegando (Our Day Is Coming) touches on his life as a Cuban refugee in Miami, an anthem of solidarity for exiles everywhere.

And so, like Gloria, Willy bridges both cultures. But can he bridge the great U.S.-Cuba policy divide?

So much has happened since I sat at his bayside Miami home just a few weeks ago to talk about his concert challenge to Havana.

Generación Y blogger Yoani Sánchez and other brave Cuban bloggers were beaten on a Havana street on their way to a peace demonstration, then she scored an Internet interview with President Barack Obama and became the star of a U.S. House committee Thursday considering dropping the travel ban on American tourists wantingto go to Cuba. (She supports it.)

Two reports came out last week on Cuba's ever-dismal human rights record, making clear that nothing has changed since Fidel got sick and Raúl was put in charge 40 months ago. And on Friday Kendall Myers, a retired State Department analyst, and his wife pleaded guilty to conspiracy for spying for Cuba for 30 years.

But still, there's this offer. Send your Che Guevara-loving commies to sing here and let our proud gusanos, the ``worms'' that Fidel called us exiles, sing there.

``This is what would happen,'' Chirino tells me. ``Cubans are not able to express themselves publicly, honestly. They're afraid of what's happening around them. If the Cuban people learn to express themselves in a crowd, really, that's what's going to change things inside Cuba.''

As Congress debates the travel ban, the politicians should ask why cultural exchanges that allow Cuban artists like Chucho Valdes and Omara Portuondo to attend the Latin Grammys in Las Vegas would deny Chirino, Gloria et al in Havana.

Because what we have is a one-way policy.

The Cuban regime gets to pick and choose who can travel to Cuba while we offer a virtual open door to their government-approved artists. Doesno one see the contradiction?

``We don't incite violence in our songs. We don't ask people to leave the island illegally. We are utilizing our music to tell our truth,'' Chirino noted. ``That's all. My guitar doesn't shoot bullets.It shoots musical notes. What are they afraid of?''

Just ask the fearless Yoani.