In Buenos Aires

By
The subte stations are cities
santa fe, córdoba, san josé
I could stay here forever
squashed against a man with a
sea-soaked polo and tiny salty
globes tangoing down his face.

the hair in my armpits is moist and
prickling, alert little filings over the woman
below
I want to say perdon for my stench and
the estuary over her head but
she does not look at me

she travels this road everyday
and her glasses are fogged.





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