How’s that New Mexican mornin’ treat in’ ya?
Full of turquoise and coyotes, I hope.
I’m sorry I didn’t text you back
Mentally I was in Brooklyn.
Physically I was in the longest shower
just to feel warmth.
You were just a girl from deep Bushwick,
taking the L to city, while reading Jung.
I was just a boy, full of coyote blood,
reading Rimbaud as I got on the rumbler.
Back around '08,
we were tiptoeing down Bedford Ave.
Brooklyn was the coolest place in the world,
and we were just two kids acting up.
And now we are lost in adulthood,
checking in as friends.
Our legs ran in opposite directions,
but hearts still hear the music.
How’s that New Mexican morning treating ya?
Cactus selfies and Christmas salsa, I hope.