I crave the days of salty air
A time where swim suits are all we wear
days and days of sun
and your hair is windblown and up in a bun
ice cream trucks circle down the street
your plate piled with fresh barbecue meat
long days, short nights
so. many. mosquito. bites.
oh winter you can be so cruel
and I hate going to school
so summer please hurry
because I miss you and hate the snow flurry

I don't know what to label you
As everything in my life has a place
You stand in between the lines of friend and boyfriend.
It's really ******* with my head
Now as I said before
We can't be a couple
Rather, an admirer
Who lives two hours away
But will come knocking at your door
When inquired
I don't know what to tell you
When I took you to the beach
The cops showed up
And we ran, from red and blue
Lights that lit up the sea
And upon your window sat a fat parking ticket
I felt bad because you were sad that we missed it,
The fact, of course
That we couldn't be parked there anymore.

Silence on the way back to my house
And I still don't know what to call you
As I rub your neck,
The back of your head
I think I should calm you

Should I kiss you?
Should I say sorry?
Maybe you're not picking up what I'm putting down
Maybe you're too selfish to notice my pout

Another song to shut the **** up to
It reminds me of the butterflies David gave me when he would drive me home just to f*ck me ******* my futon after my dance show.
It reminded me of the fights before sociology class in the parking lot of school and pretending everything was cool, it's all in the past.
He ******* played that song like it was fresh strawberry cheesecake every time he heard it
I wanted to scream and thrash and cry and complain and I wanted to burn it
Those songs,
No matter the message
Will always be negative
Because they remind me of a more handsome, more ******* of a boyfriend.

South Florida
if you were a body part,
you’d be an armpit.

You’d be a bulged vein
on the side of a forehead
forever locked in a scowl
behind sunglasses.

You speak the language of horns
middle name, finger
blood type, combustible

You're a melting ***
that's boiled over the lid
sweating salt water at the brows
eyes red as the brake lights
in the maddening brightness,
you’re torrential daylight
heating nerves like greenhouse gasses
waiting for a reason to explode.

You’re a tropical motilov cocktail
no one can afford
2 parts anger, 1 part stupidity
full of yourself in a souvenir glass with a toothpick umbrella
You're all image

You’re all talk: the curse words
breaking out the mouths
of the angry line mob at Starbucks in the morning
You’re the indifferent silence
in the arena at the Heat games leaving early,
showing up late
due to the distance
from Brickell to Hialeah,
West Palm to Pompano
the gap between the entitled and the under-paid
a skyline of condos in a third world country
You’ve always been foreign to me.

You’re winterless, no chill
you attract only hurricanes
and tourists,
shoving anything that isn’t profitable
out of the way like post-storm debris
into the backyards of the Liberty City projects,
onto a landfill off the side of the Turnpike
Hide it beneath Bermuda grass,
line it with palm trees
if only conceal your cold blooded nature:
I see you.
You are overrun with iguanas,
blood-******* mosquitos
hot-headed New York drivers
not afraid to get hit

You get yours, Soflo
and you'll go as low
as the flat roofs of your duplexes
and the wages that can barely pay the rent to get it
latitude as attitude
temper as temperature
if you were a body part
I swear you’re an *******

south of the brain, one hour
in all directions,
I’d find you.
You’d impose your way
onto my flight to the Philippines,
to Seattle, to Raleigh
You’d follow me like excess baggage,
like gravity,
bringing me back when asked where I'm from:

That area north of Miami, I’d say
(the suburbs, but whatever, we are hard in our own way)
I'd show you off on their map
like some badge of grit,
certificate of aggression
I know how to break a sweat
walk brisk, drive evasive
ride storms in my sleep
I know you, I’d say,
“He’s a friend of mine.”
and I’d watch them light up
and remember
the postcards you've sent them
of the sunrise,
welcoming brown immigrants
onto white sand beaches
You were foreign to us
yet raised us as your own
in the furnace of your summers
iron on iron, the forger striking
softness into swords
built for survival
I'm made of you

my South Floridian temper
cools down
in your ocean breeze

if you were a body part,
you'd be a part of me
a socked foot in an And1 sandal
pressed to the gas pedal
as my drive takes me north
of your borders, far from home

I see you
in the rear view mirror,
tail-gating
like a sports car on the exit ramp
the color of the sun.

Nights like this always make me realise that
I'm actually alive, that
I'm a living person and
One day I'll become ash,
Or the nutrients needed to grow a tree and
No one will remember me.

Seeing the sky crash with the waves upon human dearth,
The wings of gulls that carry time and
Meander and glide their way through
Storms of sand,
Makes me feel utterly petrified yet free- and
No one will remember me.

We started as friends,
Both damaged from our pasts.
You made mistakes that hurt you,
I was convinced that nothing ever lasts.

The adventure began,
From friends to lovers.
It’s like playing in the sand,
But instead we play under covers.

Our storms are fierce,
But we don’t go for shelter.
We stay throughout the weather,
And never let our love welter.

You dive into my waters,
And I wince with every touch,
For how is there love-
Without a little lust?

Our love is like a beach,
And all the boys want to play-
But they’ll never get the chance,
Because I will never go astray.

Till death do us part-
I will never leave your side.
You have my heart forever,
No matter the waves tide.

On the edge of the shore I stood,
the waves hitting my feet roughly,
the wind being jealous.

Far on my left side,
was a lighthouse standing mightily,
unbothered by the waves and the wind
that were fighting for its attention.

Standing mightily, in spite of being alone,
like it was waiting for someone,
for something to happen.

The lights tell otherwise,
they were always flashing brutally,
like telling people not to come close,
like warning them they'd get hurt if they come close.

It looks blue,
with the colors that started to fade
on every side.

How does it feel to be a lighthouse?
Standing on the edge of two worlds,
with the waves crashing, with the wind blowing,
when the tide rises, when the tide falls.

Does it ever get tired?

Golden light falls on a beautiful beach
warming the skin of olive colored surfers
The waves playing with their feet
tickling their toes as it comes up
to the point where land and sea meet
The noise of life surrounding them
waves crashing, birds chirping, children playing