It’s hot and it’s humid here
And the breeze sticks to your damp skin
Rather than rolling off.
It’s loud and it’s chaos here
And the laughter clashes with shouts
And the voices rise over one another
Rather than patiently waiting for their turn.
It’s simple and it’s sensible here
And the stooped old lady pushes her cart
And pays for the unsalted bread
And walks all the groceries home
Rather than loading them into a car and driving away.
It’s melodic and it’s impatient here
And the vegetables are sliced carelessly
And the thin meat sizzles gloriously
And the water bubbles fervently
And the worn hands beat the pasta
Rather than purchasing it at the store.
It’s ordinary and it’s home here
And I taste everything carefully
Even though it is tempting to dig in,
And I listen to everything and my voice chimes loudly Even though it is accented and I don’t understand
all I hear
And I breathe in the sweet, sticky air
And I only hope to one day be as happy as
I am here