Do Floridians ever feel anything

Beyond the barren lawnscapes

Begging for an illustrious drink

From the flinging whirlpools

Staked in the desiccant earth

 

Or the splintered docks

And the burning, fiery boats

That gleefully clash

With the murky brown lake

And the froth-flecked beer cans

 

Or the bedraggled Bermuda shorts

Flapping like a flowery beacon

From the hand of a sun-kissed child

Who lobs it at a gathering of seagulls

Scattering them from their latest cornucopia

 

Or the stinging slap of a mother’s hand

As her daughter carelessly reaches

For just one sip of succulence

From her overflowing wineglass

At her cousin’s Jacksonville wedding

 

Do Floridians ever feel anything

Beyond the fruity mosh pit

Dumped into the vibrant blender

The crumbly crab cakes

And the fancy fender bender

 

She ponders this question

As she steps onto the sidewalk

Although she cannot hear

The splintering crunch of ice underfoot

Since her ears have fallen off.