In my dream Florida,
The waves gather,
and the porpoises play among them
in pods whose numbers are impossible to count.
In my ideal Florida,
people gather to watch from sand unsullied by tires
in front of long unbroken dunes,
and sandy shacks that blow away in the next hurricane
the only dwellings.
In my Florida,
We don’t fear the
apocalypses humans have foretold for themselves.
We are safe.
