excuse me, do you if this bus takes us to old san juan?

it's easy to lie to you
in tropical shirts and red sunburns
lost in the very heat of our pooooooortoorican(ness)
as the public buses, go and return

"are you from the states?" they ask in such an endearing tone
as i laugh and conger up a lovely tale
of how i lived for a while out there
and found my way back home

every bus ride is a different story
today i was an aspiring jazz singer
yesterday a literature major
and i can't help but figure what these lies portray

a future i wish would be
and even more that that, the future i wish would arise with tomorrow's sun
the life i wish i was living
the time i want to fast-forward

i engage these strangers in a Technicolor lie that enthralls them.
something for them to talk about in the 3 minutes that are left, until they reach their hotel suites, and then go for a night on the town. my stories are extravagant tales of a 17yearold on the brink of deciding what she will do with her life. a yoga freek who studies music and is Italian.. see, that last bit was true.