The truth is you left me so long ago
and the calls and the texts don’t make up for it,
and the memories of cool evenings by the lake
and listening to Glenn Millers Orchestra
and playing Hello Dolly on the kazoo,

It means nothing now that we don’t talk anymore-
not about what’s really important
or what’s really on our minds,
about how our children have left us behind,
no longer asking us for our advise.

Oh, Argentina, you’ve become
a closet full of Christian Louboutin shoes,
their red soles unblemished.
Amanda Marcos must live here
With such beautiful feet
unbound and unbroken,
never touching the street.

I cry for you, Argentina,
your crown shines against the blue
of the sea and the sky
and all the while, gulls fly by
with their gullets full of fish,
and you and I are torn apart,
digested and unfinished.