ultimo impresiones


love is a temple, rising
high
out of the city streets, traversed
thousands of feet, rising, (pounding), homages to the
gods of commerce creating (indentations) carving the
path of the future in blue pin-striped suits bought for the
price of a small country in the middle of the Indian Ocean…


standing (walking, actually, quite quickly, uncomfortable)
“I feel like a tourist in my own country,” he said to me as we
picked our way through plastic toy cowboys with missing legs,
yellow bras and purple pens, tacos, refrescos, and chiclets,
all shaded by rainbow umbrellas and unharmed by the rain’s
mid-afternoon acidic alarm clock.


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