The cassette player
would sit on the cabinet shelf.
Cassettes were tiny
objects
of mysterious mechanics.
I’d play her over
and over,
daydreaming
about the recording studio&bottled; water
from a foreign country,
about Manhattan avenues&
stretched SUVs,
Lincoln limos fur coats
the flavor of the nineties.
I’m walking the avenues
today.
The same steam as in 1999
blowing up from manholes.
I own these streets
today
with keys to an apartment
jingling in my coat’s pocket.
I came from afar,
I played with words,
and made it here.
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
I’ll talk to you
like this
with words shiny on screens
as if
we’re lovers
separated by miles
of sea.
We’re stupid and we’re poor,
you can’t send me your thoughts
as if
I’m your hero
in a faraway war.
By this
I mean to keep us alive
in you
through the months&miles.;
So that you don’t grow fond of
what I’ve come to mean
for you
but of what I’m made of.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC