Managed a Sunday morning light run
through rural sidewalk-less streets
in Lemon Grove
on my bruised ligament,
joyful border radio blasting
Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes
and commercials for Jarritos
the classic Mexican soda,
then a free tangerine,
toothless smile and a wave
from Vietnamese gardner
working on the foreclosed house’s yard
around the corner
and an old dude seriously
grinding curbs in the parking lot
at Bank of America
all this more than enough
to limp me home again.