Picture: the sky melting pink, seen from the inside of an air-conditioned train.
Off the Florida Keys, There’s a place called Kokomo.
That’s where you want to go to get away from it all.
Bodies in the sand; tropical drink melting in your hand,
We’ll be falling in love to the rhythm of a steeldrum band.
The leaves of this jade tree, dark green, spatulate-orbicular. They’re odorless rubber, some have spots of decay.
Aw man the sun’s burnt my arm again.
The line of the water, a membrane, takes me in. Air: water; water: air. More than half-up to my neck. Walk across the cement like Godzilla now:
A samara copters down. All this time green. What a shame I torched myself.
The fronds of a palm tree, stroked by the wind, rake the strings of a guitar. La’ding sings the guitar, la’da in minor to the beach. Clouds as big as cruise ships pull across the sky, shading the sea a darker blue.
LUNCH. Plastic lobster pagers.
—We can just go here.
The light shone through the redwhiteblue banner. My sister’s face glowed red.
Relax and unwind as you feel the stress melt away at the hands of our massage gurus. Imagine soothing ministrations…
—How is it?
—The Hawaiian? It’s–
—What grades did you end up getting?
Tried to sleep on the beach tonight. Couldn’t hear anything natural over the AC. Haaaaaaaaa, went outside. Some notion got into me… Are those oil rigs out on the bay? Glowing like fireflies above the water. Milky Way Bay, 3AM, dumb bright. Too hot and humid to catch a wink. The sand on the rubber panels of the chair just cut into my arms. Thought I could hear the engines pulsing over the water. Still air. Now who’s this approaching?
Grinning, his screen previewed a leg.
––Da ge, wo zhi shi lai kankan xing bei…
It’s hot tonight.
Umbellifer. Real parsley. Taste.