New York

“What part?”
she said

What words
could ever mean
the paper-hatted Deli Lama
voodoo dolls hung in the tree
sunglassed Inez smoking and drinking
and gangbangers who lovingly call my dog “Shorty”
flooded streets teeming with tuberculosis,
day-old coffee and motor oil
none but these, too long for what we call a name

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