Santo Domingo

 

There are some unknown noises
down on the street
coming
and going

some food on the counter
viruses on my weakened body

I have some friends I am missing
some old love affairs too
some sadness deep inside

I am searching for the atlantis
in every shore round here,
in my dirty
greasy
neighborhood
with chinese prostitutes on every windshield
and yellow bleach bottles
smashed bellow the wheels

&

that little dominican girl below
is crying
again
too

it must be around 6AM
on the hangover month
and the entrances to all the private parkings
are gathering tore apart plastic bags
& fallen leaves
and condom wraps
and cigarettes butts

the mother starts shouting now
“What the hell is wrong with you?
Why are you crying now?
why aren’t you sleeping?”