Houses painted like the inside of fruit.
Mango, guava,
papaya with beady eyes.
Houses with roofs like ski hats.
Casas in flaming hues.
Casa with lawns like sloppy husbands
or gated and manicured,
haunted by bromeliads, orchids,
strange ferns. Casas
always with pools.
No one in them.
City of fertility and
decay. Cacophonous
congestion. City of roads
named for conquerors
and birds.
Let’s go get a cortadito
sin azucar.
