adam and eve’s summer home


    European architecture teases the falling sun,


    tattooed with graffiti. A concoction of Spanish


    and English words, mixed together and sprayed


    over the fences, doorways. Adam and Eve reach for


    the elusive apple on the whitewashed wall as the sun


    sets. Everything is now cast in shadow: crooked tree branches


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    with forgotten leaves, cars settling into the street, the small


    purple flowers that cast their bodies across


    the cobblestones. This is the New York City del Sur,


    filled with color and bodies. Come morning, men and women scrub


    tile lawns, hosing down the scent of the city as I walk along


    the sidewalk, dodging water, brooms, stray mutts,


    thousands of people. Morning here smells like baking


    bread, facturas—stuffed with dulce de leche,


    glazed with sugar honey, pale powder.


    Panaderias are opening, making my mouth water.


    Just one bite. Sun hits my skin, makes me shiver


    and glisten in the morning bustle.