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.