I See
The bright lights
The sun reflecting off
Of every possible surface.
Taco carts
Bundles of wood
Eyes,
Looking up.
I see lakes of bright blue
Rivers the same.
Dogs, abandoned.
Women, adorned.
Purple, yellow, silver, blue, green,
Rainbows woven into clothes
Dreams, holding it all together.
The bright lights
The sun reflecting off
Of every possible surface.
Taco carts
Bundles of wood
Eyes,
Looking up.
I see lakes of bright blue
Rivers the same.
Dogs, abandoned.
Women, adorned.
Purple, yellow, silver, blue, green,
Rainbows woven into clothes
Dreams, holding it all together.
I Smell
Corn.
Always corn,
And wood smoke.
I smell tradition worked into every tortilla.
I smell bathrooms, as I walk by.
I smell blacktop in the cities, I smell tires rubbed in.
I smell rain as it drips through the fresh leaves
They smell of summer.
The air smells
And I smell it.
Corn.
Always corn,
And wood smoke.
I smell tradition worked into every tortilla.
I smell bathrooms, as I walk by.
I smell blacktop in the cities, I smell tires rubbed in.
I smell rain as it drips through the fresh leaves
They smell of summer.
The air smells
And I smell it.
I Taste
Hard work.
Dedication.
I ate a meal flavored with smiles, spiced with laughter.
The main course was a giggle and dessert was hilarity.
I never knew I could taste those things,
but I can.
Laughter is sweet,
Giggles are like meringues,
fluffy and light.
I asked for seconds,
And they obliged.
Hard work.
Dedication.
I ate a meal flavored with smiles, spiced with laughter.
The main course was a giggle and dessert was hilarity.
I never knew I could taste those things,
but I can.
Laughter is sweet,
Giggles are like meringues,
fluffy and light.
I asked for seconds,
And they obliged.
I Touch
Feelings, hearts.
They touch me,
right in the corazon.
I touch rocks that tell stories
I feel grass that grows from sadness over a village that no longer exists.
I feel sun on my face in a way only the equator can provide.
I touch ropes—nay, vines—vines that feel like ropes.
Mud in-between my toes coolly reminds me that I am alive,
And I inhale,
Fresh jungle air.
I HearFeelings, hearts.
They touch me,
right in the corazon.
I touch rocks that tell stories
I feel grass that grows from sadness over a village that no longer exists.
I feel sun on my face in a way only the equator can provide.
I touch ropes—nay, vines—vines that feel like ropes.
Mud in-between my toes coolly reminds me that I am alive,
And I inhale,
Fresh jungle air.
Sounds.
Many.
All of them?
Cars beeping,
Animals laughing,
People yelling.
Tone is everything in a language that is not your own.
Do their words curve up
Or down?
Does their voice smile,
Or frown?
You tell me,
When you listen.