The Halal food in my neighborhood

 

The Halal food in my neighborhood is much tastier

than the Halal food on the moon, 

the public parks in my neighborhood much greener

than the public parks on Jupiter

 

the beaches in my city much more full of 

nudity, poetry, snacks, water, serendipity, joyful crying, 

birds, music and reefer than the 

beaches in a gated community 

on the international space station.

 

The friends in my neighborhood are often busy

but when we finally meet up, our parties

are way lovelier than parties 

in the deep empty vacuum of space. 

 

We have air in our lungs and exchange it sometimes for smoke

and sometimes we expel it in a generous way called “singing” 

 

At our parties sleepy projections warm the couch with

those whom you love their face and others you never thought 

existed — new strangers or strange new lovers 

high notes and dim lights, dishevelment 

and embers, the proliferation of inspiration.

 

A radiator that sounds like birds.

A river of traffic, a helicopter meteor shower

A song you have been writing in your head

A scream a laugh a cry a fuck yeah 

A squawk a honk an echo

 

The river in my neighborhood 

would make a great river

to picnic at, 

I’ll meet you in the spring.