Miami sonnets must be in Spanglish.
Toss in Russian, Creole, and Português
written on ventanita paper dish
orated atop fresh coco ice chest.
There’s poetry on Flagler Metrobus.
Riders en la lucha, two jobs or six.
Crosswalk rooster crows, do not forget us.
Lizard-chasing-cats also in the mix.
Our Magic City is a hazy dream,
a lotto card before scratched by key.
Humid air might melt patience y ice cream.
Rent sure is insane, but the beach is free.
Wander the galaxy, dead or alive,
never find a place like our three o’five.