City sounds
from hotel windows
can’t calm botched goodbyes;
the 2pm sirens below
halogen and neon gas nymphs
singing the end of tender touch.
It’s winter somewhere,
and calendar days
crumble and fall
like symbolic snow,
or a Nestle billboard frothing
remembrance
upon rooftops that
will never know cold.
LOCATION: Guayaquil, Ecuador
