more where that came from

yes, my Athens is my Athens and my LA is your Athens, how long before we get there and will they let us stay? look! my body trembles into poems! about Athens and death and the short dresses of brown women! smoke in the cafe and moonlight on the page. down the way ouzo pours like these words and yes sir! we have a table for you right here. thank you! but i can’t sit. i’m on a roof on the other side of the world, where the sun hits the same and the ocean dances just like Piraeus, and even the clacking of high heels sometimes drifts to my ears, but it is not my Athens. it is not the heels above me on Nikkis street, on the stone, on the feet of those muses greater than marble, dancing on the night.