ana and ani
chat over chamomile tea
oh, the days of the yellow carris
chasing angolan music until six a.m.,
courted by fine-haired, olive-skinned men,
it was as sweet as pastel de nata from belém.
back before escudos became euros,
before their husbands became their heroes,
before they only spoke in fears and in woes,
they lived the life of the livre -
their pasts are the lives of their dreams.
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