When you leave this life, this fast and bright
existence in the Mojave, for the swamplands
of home, you can’t help but wonder if the Florida
alligators will eat you alive.
This language tastes like songs
of my sedo and before, days when land was soft beneath bare feet,
before bombshells bore into ground, before bullet skins showered
seeds in the dust.
who would’ve thought Florida would be so sci-fi
I.N.S. kicking in doors in six cities in Dade
home invading a hard working un invasive species of humans
sending them back to their planets
Famed art deco replaced by fire coral
and colorful parrot fish, neon lights
restored by pulsating swarms of moon
jellyfish, lit up like a Saturday night.
I even forgot the caramel of my lover’s skin, forgot the way back
to my island, forgot myself and pledged my life in service to one
man’s pleasure, donned the white gloves and clutched a clipboard