sitting on her couch, watching movies on my laptop
Energy drink, styrofoam pasta bowl on the table
only the kitchen light on,
wish I had a place of my own.
she makes a cake in the LA night
talking in her apartment under yellow light
I’m still on the road
and I’ve been living off of hope.
between my dreams of Chile and Argentina,
my heartland mountains calling to me,
and my chicana mornings of platanos and crema,
it’ll be forever difficult to choose.
I miss his arms and my city’s soul
but I will long for the nights here,
I am sure I will need
my city of angels once more.
I am sticky with fever and
dizzy with dreams;
humid nostalgic memories…