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For your dining pleasure, from an eccentric Florida poet 


GODDESS OF THE SUN
 
February cool fronts blow in
And out of a Florida island,
The women wear sweaters
Over their bikinis,
All except Diana
She wears a leather jacket
Black as the ink of night
Smooth as Santana,
Discards it in the sand
Discards her blanket and lover too
As the temperature rises just past noon,
All to run after a boy with a lighter
“Smokers are a dying breed,”
I hear the echo of her tropical giggle.
She follows the boy into a beach bar
While another cool front drifts into town,
I scoop up her discarded jacket
Ease my way onto her blanket and light up
The cigarette of Diana’s bronzed man
With my jaded green lighter
We watch the greenish ocean
For a long sultry second,
Sufficient time for him
To fall for my siren song;
We drive to Miami for dinner.