Monday, November 3, 2008

There's No Place Like Home - Cynthia Gomez

There’s No Place Like Home

She turns the music up to sway her Cuban hips
And looks at me in a way that says, “They don’t have this where you’re going!”
We all know tomorrow I’ll exchange my sunshine for sunflowers.
And everyone laughs, including me.
The humid breeze blows on those palm trees
(The ones that have been there since I was 10)
And they wave goodbye to me.
The cool on my feet, the hot against my back, and the familiar in my heart.
Thank you, God, for Sundays in Miami.
I study the texture of Papi’s blue eyes to be sure
I will always have them with me.
And I go over it all until I know I won’t forget.

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