hazy and slow and promising of warmth
a certain languid and lonely memory hints in the distance and I'm transported quickly
to places that were once safe but became sad and empty
to an atmosphere at once romantic and bittersweet
there are parts of florida, in my mind, that remain perfect and warm and sweet
there is a pool and crickets and watching boxing late at night on the tv from my fold out bed. there are headphones filled with new and wonderful music all the time, and there are dreams so pungent and promising and these dreams are always bathed in humidity and reflected white tile. there is family, everywhere, old, but sweet, and loving and apt to praise youth in that way the fleeting generation sooths.
but there are also strip malls and endless parades of fire ants and cheap imitations everywhere you look. everything is new, and everything is replaceable. and I am getting older, and fatter, and I tired of the mirrors on every surface, showing every misplaced hair and the sweat trickling. and the food, once decadent and so reassuringly normal is now processed and overly sweet and I can taste it hours after I've eaten, and I am always hungry but crave nothing in particular.
I think of the things I lost and try to hold onto the parts built on a certain innocence, I try not to hate the naivete that led to the fall
I sort the feelings, hoping to cull, hoping there is something to keep.
mostly I think of the spaces I still hope to find that stay magical and sultry in the hot sun, that do not exhaust in full sunlight, where colors are true and a slight breeze hints at the thunderstorm on the horizon, always quick to pass and bring more flowers