hope on the road

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;

missing her

humid nostalgic memories…

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