I came to this place to be alone, but all I want is to talk to a stranger
I let a palm leaf brush against my face
And my heart stops when I see my mother
Her face transplanted on some other middle-aged lady with glasses
Sometimes I forget she's dead
Maybe because she isn't yet
In this place
I walk through romantic gardens
Admiring the dramatic geometry
Vivid hues, sweet scents
Choosing the only bench that sways when I sit
Always choosing broken things
Or was it alright until I got here
It's a cruel trick that altitude sickness feels like anxiety
Shouldn't I just power through
When I'm gone, where will they put me
A small plaque, bronzing out my name
And a bench that frets and sags to greet you
Come here to be alone