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LA CARRETA ❋ Jason Freure

We come here when pizza night becomes every night.
We come here to pretend that nights off are special.
Most of my nights are off. I swill my ice water around.
Aromatic. I’ve settled for mistaking pupusas for romance.
I am hoaxing yucca into signs of devotion.
I’ve accepted Station Beaubien for Paris,
and I only hope that she will still look at me
through the michelada-tinted glasses of date night.