solo

have you ever been to america, he asked

once
when I was really young
I got lost in its streets without numbers
in the amorality of its hallways
the perfectly lit uniformity of its living rooms
and I lived life like it owed me something

your crashes only made you stronger, he said
I say no, like you, I am still looking for my youth
gluing his mouth onto my ear
so I could hear the minutia of his every syllable
he said
let’s go to america, together

there is no togetherness in america, I correct him
it is a maze of drunken souls allergic to human bonding
yet addicted to its touch

we need a visa, we need vanilla roots, we need caffeine and male presence

no, let’s go to brazil or peru or senegal, or back inside
watch the moon remain untouched
use our fingers like cutlery
see misery, get spit on, become immortal and die