Saturday, October 22, 2016

Toa Baja



Casas abandoned when the university raised the rent.


We saved a chick from the cat pack that lives outside.
I found a thrift store in the mall.
Listening to bachata music coming in the windows from the neighbors on the other side of the fence--somewhere along the way I've become in some way Caribbean, raising a child who pronounces "diez" as "deay" and wants me to wear four-inch heels. This is home, but that hasn't been a singular noun for decades. Zacarias Ferreira's voice is out there in the night, a song that first floated over the rails of Callisto in the bay in Luperon. Somewhere along the way, not quite soon enough, I realized that everything's going to be OK.

No comments: