To celebrate the big bathtub and to feel
Chicago under my feet, I went looking
for travel-sized bubbles and bombs
so my skin could feel fizzy and smooth
in the gluttony.
Up in the White House of the Midwest,
I can’t find a place to rest my feet
other than the velvet chaises on the second floor
or my working-stiff ability to recontextualize
any flat surface near a leg rest.
The stores around the hotel keep
their soaps and bubble baths behind glass,
as if the universe dares me to work
a little harder for unearned luxury,
while an unhoused man shuffles
from customer to customer to ask for money.
When rejected, he says “stay in school”
in a mumble that might be inebriation,
a sincere piece of advice,
or all a too-tired mouth can do to end it.
Christian Hanz Lozada’s (he/him) near-accolades include two Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominations, runner up in the Blossom Contest for BIPOC writers, and almost dated Super Bowl halftime star Jessica Alba (if an initiated conversation counts). He wrote the poetry collection He’s a Color, Until He’s Not. His poetry has been published worldwide, including in Bamboo Ridge, Cordite Poetry Review, and Scrawl Place. Christian has featured at the Autry Museum and Beyond Baroque. He lives in San Pedro, CA and uses his MFA to teach his neighbors and their kids at Los Angeles Harbor College.