She was an Art Historian from Costa Rica
And had never learned to ride a bicycle
Now she was in Brussels for her studies
Not for sprouts
I asked her if she was safe
But she never replied
'Wish we were high up in the mountains'
I said
And closed my eyes
Thinking of the Cerro de la Muerte
From the city of San Isidro
The mountain of death
The summit of death
Chuckling at the thought
And the irony of self isolating there
And had never learned to ride a bicycle
Now she was in Brussels for her studies
Not for sprouts
I asked her if she was safe
But she never replied
'Wish we were high up in the mountains'
I said
And closed my eyes
Thinking of the Cerro de la Muerte
From the city of San Isidro
The mountain of death
The summit of death
Chuckling at the thought
And the irony of self isolating there
