The City of Skin

Take me to Skin City

where your bronze bodies litter the sidewalks,

where you chill in Starbucks sipping your Macchiato that

scorches your taste buds.

Take me to Skin City

where the sweet ocean meets the harsh sand

that makes a home between your toes before you

blast them away with a hose.

Take me to Skin City

where the cancer grows; asymmetrical moles whose

large paws burrow from the horizon of your thin

sheath of flesh, squinting in the bright light.

Take me to Skin City

where you brag about your leather bags,

that aren’t purses or clutches at all

but the coverings of your organs, muscles and bones.