i.
abandoned storefronts, choppy gravel. my tongue, distant as chueca, metro azul. a thief tried to rob me & i laughed. stab me, i said, in this crowded plaza

ii.
littered floor. black boots, t-shirts, tight jeans. a lady screams in spanish. a man screams back reckless sound waves. my hands work to muffle screams from another voice, more foreign than those in the alley

iii.
lights on 7th go one way. green. green always. i see red, pretend it's green

iv.
garbage trucks, screaming infants, car horns. i rent this room & forego sleep

v.
i absorb her words, her images. i want to watch her hands create; ask if she remembers those times i saw her

i absorb best by touch. i can't touch her. she wouldn’t remember me anyway, head far above tight spaces where my type waits with heavy lungs.