Gray's Papaya

I hope to go back to that papaya place


Get dirty dogs and

that gritty elixir and

Laugh at all the silly extra



Tip the Africans

a crisp five

Then walk back to our apartment

Say hello to Bullet

(the doorman with a dent in his head)

Take the stairs

Avoid the elevator and the drug addict

that often falls into our shared wall

Laughing like a goon

Close the door

and focus in on the DJ above us

Becoming his only audience