Queen of San Luis

Grew up in the foothills

or did the foothills grow her?

bandana

frizzy brown hair

curls into gold

It doesn’t take you long to notice

she’s an invasive species

wild

like honey

like strawberries blooming in the village

You’ll ask for her plans

Her lips will tell you she’s busy

But you could meet her in the morning

buy her coffee

tell a bad joke, hear her laugh

before the band starts playing

Or after the the sun sets

She’ll be sitting across from you

A popcorn colored booth

Vanilla

on her tongue