I should have been born latina

México, come get me. Come take me
back with you. I can't stand this,
this snow sticking to the insides of my
lungs and choking me, I can't
breathe here. México, I want to breathe
you. Heaters and humidifiers are
not enough, they're not the same,
meager substitutions. México, I want
to smell you. I bought coconut lime verbena
from Bath and Body, but I can't smell
the sand in it, I can't smell the
horses. México, I need your waters,
warm and wet like the womb, pushing me
ashore against my will. I need the shock
of the cenote to keep my limbs
awake. México, I want to taste you.
None of that Taco Bell crap that
they feed Americans - I feel so
different from them now. I tend to forget
that not everyone can understand
Spanish. México, some of your
phrases have slipped into my
vernacular, bueno, ¿qué pasa?,
hace mucho frio hoy. That's why
I want to come back to you,
México. Quiero el calor, quiero
la paz de saber que it's no problem.
Siempre es un problema aquí. We're always
running, corriendo, from the little
problemas, and we can never run
bastante rápidos. México, you are
my finish line. Please stop me
before I collapse.