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.