Thursday, February 1, 2024

The Glamour

of Miami ends at the side streets—

where rectangle houses sit like bricks 

and window bars keep out the bad guys. 

 

Out near our curb stands an ancient oak.

A storm left it bent but not uprooted.

It moved with the wind but didn’t break.  

 

Back in the back, beside our garage,

the banana tree shades our rusted mustang

and fruit is blooming under the fronds.   

 

But proper palms stand along the highway. 

Woven trunks tower, their green flags waive

to welcome the tourists driving south.

 

The glamour of Miami is a nailed–in board 

that props up a palm against gravity.



Terse, July 2023