New York
put on
shorts
shades

whistling
walked to
Fifth Avenue
for the parade

a Puerto Rican
flag kept
growing
out of his hand

New York
got hot
took off
his shirt

his firm
young
pectorals
shined

like two
medallions
pumped
with sunlight

New York
showed off
his trimmed
moustache

his hair
oiled
with lots
of promise

and an island
bien chévere
folded inside
his wallet

New York
applauded
laughed
howled

drank
beers
tasted
alcapurritas

among
the lined
trees of
Central Park

and licking
his coconut
ice cream cone
for a buck

New York
went back
to his corner
in the barrio

before
the noise
of the world

that
denies
my soul

I decided
to listen
to the clouds

bear
witness
to the song

I
find
in life

the calling
of ducks
in flight

the quiet
weeping
of my mother

the snoring
of this stranger
in my bed

who
in the mist
of dreams

starts
recalling
this poem