The Second Floor

Smoke and regaeton
A ringing Peruvian guitar and
The smell of burning steak
The incessant dog, samba.
No work tomorrow dia libre
Let's get drunk on pisco sour
and love.
I can lose myself in that
Spanish chatter
High pitched laugh.
I am the ceiling.
concrete and re-bar
blind.
But I can feel the drum
Smell the burned tobacco
I am homesick.
I never want to go home.