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About San Jose

We head to this shady motel, and I’m thinkin, “This is it, Gekko, you’re the king.” Room smells like ass, but who cares? She’s crackin jokes bout my shoes – “What, no loafers, rich boy?” I’m dyin laughin, she’s got me pegged wrong but it’s hilarious. Then she says, “Time’s money,” and I’m like, “Hell yeah, let’s roll.” Greed is good, bro, keeps it movin fast.

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Oh, and lemme tell ya, there’s a quirky charm ‘round here. For example, I once sat ehat a man sellin’ postcards, tellin’ me life’s all twists and turns. My head was spinnin’ with ideas of family ties and the strength of community.

Ada Limón reflects on her tenure as the poet laureate and bringing us back to wonder