To Be Said In Math Class

The once-exotic American
Settles an old debt with ambition
And forgets she once laughed among
The cigarette-smoke-swirled bars
Where withered, old men with flowered bags
Under knowing eyes
Reflected into
Ever present
Coffee
Cups.
Spanish fables of a whispered princess
Hum through the ice-diffused rum and Fanta nights
As reggaeton dreams slice though a New York mediocrity
Fill me up and over
With the sweet sadness of Segovia
Let it sing in these hands
That ache for the rough touch
Of the aqueduct
Where I am beautiful and anonymous