Graffiti speaks
to her in codes
she cannot translate
but knows
by heart.

She has never owned
property. Imagines
walls that talk
to everyone
who will listen.

CARS
SHE DOESN’T DRIVE THEM
DOESN’T BULLFIGHT THEM
DOESN’T LIKE TO RIDE IN THEM
¡MALDITOS COCHES!

Exposed rusty rebar
and cavernous potholes
in the Havana calles

cannot kill
her love
of the street
in all its ruined beauty—
exclaimed, whispered, silent.