In this neighborhood you can still find shadowy corners and mysterious apparitions after dark. Tonight I wander the labyrinth of sidewalks, seduced onward by a cool breeze and endless ache for summer.
Statues of the madonna wreathed with flowers, Puerto Rican flags, storms of graffiti, swathes of warehouses, hairy patches of gardens, and bars with halos of light flooding from the doors.
The tortilla factory, baskets of cassava, a billowing curtain, laughter from a cluster of women on a stoop.
Even with the ominous drumbeat of gentrification, even in the belly of the capitalist beast, these streets feel untamed. Mismatched, dirty, gorgeous, devout, irreverent, and endlessly sensuous.
Whisper to the night air, I want to live forever.