And I Dream

diligent hands over delicate fruit. firmly holding the handle of the knife. cutting the taut skin, wrinkling under the effort. forcing the innards to come to and descend on the plate. cubed and blended, juices squeezed out like how I left. and I’ll leave. highways and fruit stands. straw hats and summer dresses. bruja wear in the evening calling for mother, pleading with my fingers for the waves to dance for me and the moon happily ascends into my heart. and the perpetual love I craved is satiated in the winters with the warm winds coming up from the valleys…

all a dream, as I sip hot tea against the torrential rain of the city night.