Interstate

Interstate

We are not
interfaith
nor
inter race
but in fact
interstate.

The Hudson River
causes a great divide,
the grass seemingly
greener
on each
respective
side

Battle lines drawn over
where we will reside

The Garden state
are where my roots
lie,
hailing from a
square mile town
summer spent at Seaside
feasting on
cheese steaks
lemonade
pink cotton candy.

Him, a rare breed of
Native New Yorker
pumping with a
Harlem Heartbeat
A sage of subway shortcuts.

Now
we are Inwood living
spacious apartment
high ceilings

The One train providing
a gentle serenade

Hearing bachata
y tipico
bursting from the streets
Seeking the Icee lady
and snacking on dollar empanadas

Working together
to build
our new home,
smells of fabuloso
and baked chicken.

Seeing Jersey
from Harlem’s Riverside
Finding subway grates
Marked Harrison, NJ
Campbell foundry made

My Garden state
is only three
heels click away.

Manor Ave.

Manor Ave.

For one summer
I was invincible,
Flying underneath
the trees.

A pink bicycle
was my wings,
three friends
sharing one joyride.

Learned how to fly
thanks to my ducks
Melissa & Kim

One block
in a one square mile
town
seemed like the world.

Tracks
encapsulated
by wet cement,
flanked by fireflies
held close by August nights

Days of smiling and shrieking
bellies full of slushies.

I never rode again.