I’m listening to Nina Simone

on the subway platform.

A woman who looks a bit like her

(let’s pretend)

asks me where I bought my bag.

-Turkey.

I say.

She looks puzzled.

-It’s GORGEOUS.

Technically it was my father 

who gave it to me.

A long tradition of gifts

from faraway lands

full of lovers and AIDS conferences

to make up for being a pretty bad dad.

Soon after I got that bag

He did something I didn’t quite enjoy.

The next day 

Matthew and I

filed for my immigrant visa.

It’s reassuring to think about that Ocean

out there.