South Beach

SOUTH BEACH

My chakras go spinning
along Lincoln Road mall
like old-timey hoops
down the streets of Our Town.
Number two's wide open,
an apricot bloom
in the Miami heat,
fed with hot, fleshy food
and plastic sex for sale.
Cash registers kaching
and the full moon's drumming,
English, Spanish, Creole,
neo-Babel's patois.
At the outdoor cafes,
lips smeared with sweet butter,
grey-haired lovers, creaking sharp,
fenced by mounting desires.
Neither blue state, nor red,
but a Cantaloupe Isle.
Mint leaves and mojitos
fly this nation's flag.
All my spinal bones shift,
kundalini's rising.
Just takes one to tango,
let the party begin.

Written for: "SLAM!"