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.