A radiator valve slowly whistles.

The ghoulish steam floating
Across the air conditioner’s face.

The baby bass rises from it’s slant
It’s fingers pluck the sound of raindrops
Where the landfill fails to stop the floods
Or a pair of thin sticks smacking
Against a metal edge.

Again the finger syncopating
Along the worn ebony neck
Sulky beneath an overcast sky.

Everyone gathers around his parlor
Cluttered with ancient recordings
Of impeccable cláve.

Tokes and cough continuing,
Pissing running red.

Américo Casiano Jr.