The long Volkswagen parked outside – 

the family car, its windows down, 

doors open, salsa beats playing from inside 

the transit vehicle’s ever-moving heart. 

Mosquitoes acquainting themselves  

with our sun-kissed, sweaty skin; 

chatting with one another, creating a feast of their own. 

Citronella candles, their flames awoken,  

the balmy scent unearthed – a necessity. 

Cloths laid and the table extended, 

chairs crammed around like the Last Supper, as cats’ tails brush in and out of the weeds winding their way in and around our communal garden. Permesso? 

My second family — 

the heart bursting as it takes in the warmth; 

the warmth of the August sun setting in for the nights, (ci vediamo domani) 

the warmth of Buena Vista souls 

accompanying this moment as we sway in unison; the warmth of these hearts that by fate 

had taken me in and made me one of theirs. 

And the biggest warmth of all: 

you. 

You, with your thinning, sun-bleached, and floppy hair; you, with your deep pooled eyes; 

you, with your warm, spirited laugh 

that covers a thousand sorrows. 

My friend. 

My love that never knew. 

My heart that never revealed.