He Tells Me

[tallonrk1]

“They have to take cars from the 50s and repair them with any sort of scrap they can find lying around”
He tells me
as we watch a show that explores culture in Havana, Cuba.

“It was really scary riding in the taxis because it feels like they could break down at any moment”
and he tells me about how the trade embargo
ruined the Cuban economy. How they are
just starting to recover, though still poor. And I

glance out the window—
modern cars pumping gas into the air,
smoothly rolling across quiet streets.

His eyes stay on the screen,
watching Havana citizens pour out into the streets come nightfall
to dance, and drink, and sing, and I

glance out the window—
frosting grass-tips
and lonely Pittsburgh sidewalks. And I

want to crawl into his arms—
ask him why Marx never raided the steel mills,
ask him why these highways run through downtown
more than the people do,

and wonder how love and nature
turned
into this.