i never met her

but i always knew she was there

my dad talked about her so fondly

“we used to drive

for hours listening to old cassette tapes

singing along

not knowing where we were going

but not caring”

sometimes

I can’t remember

why pink ice cream

smells of lakes

and trips to grandma’s house

I have no memory

of cherry chocolate chunk ice cream melting

in my mouth

But sometimes

I lick my fingers

just to make sure

The West,

To me,

Is Capoeira.

Boundless

And filled with

Saudade.

It is

The macaws

Of the Amazon.

And the macaques

Of the tamarind trees.

You ask me If I know the way back home from here. I sing the words, “yes, dear” back to you like I’m someone else. You say “alright” because you’ve got nothing else to say right now; I respect that. I keep my eyes on the road. I’m not quite sure where you’re looking at this point