A man from the Andes moved to a New York

     suburb and decided to raise guinea pigs,

built a cuyero house, similar to a thatched

     kitchen in hut back home, his intention

was to have cuy meat available for special

     occasions, summer barbecues, also because

the animals' noises, purrs and clicks, pleased

     him, helped him stave off homesickness.

On warm days the man let the animals graze

     in the garden; one afternoon he forgot

to feed them and the pigs wandered into the streets,

     not able to find their way home,

and when the temperature dropped, they all died

     of hypothermia. The man, unable to contain

his sadness, drank himself silly, lost in his second-

     hand clothes, he moped about, aimless,

poor, his longing for home like the furry balls

     that wandered into Manhattan's flower district

where a woman carrying groceries saw one,

     a creature she swore looked like a giant rat.

She screamed and let go of her groceries,

     a huge rat who stopped her to ask for directions.