POEMS
MIAMI BEACH (VIA MILLIONAIRES' ROW)
Down the grand paradisiacal drive
with property one thousand dollrur an inch,
we drive slowly as a hearse past the houses;
we want to glimpse them all as our last,
the lasting luminaries, loving light.
Down the green fingered road by the water,
beneath the royal Indian palms,
not one root here but that was transplanted,
a quickened migration made natural;
we crawl slowly, normal as snakes.
A bright snake eye it takes to see
the houses of the rich fenced in
between Australian Pine, the fine
and formidable elusiveness of wealth.
With stealth we crawl on bellies in.
Flamingo painted windows, peacock roofs!
A glistening octopus of tinted glass!
The grass is better sod than any grave,
it covers up the sand and seaweed, mud,
wherever God dare show His ugly face.
Swimming pools of tile, all molar white!
Sharks' teeth biting in a little bowl!
Past the sensitive swimmers we go slowly;
they do not see us for their world
contains neither middleclass nor death.
Down the grand paradisiacal drive
with hoops of Oriental bridges rolling,
we follow the island that has no cemetery,
nor crematory, nor mortician's mirth.
Here, laughter can scarcely be heard
above the din, the drowning Atlantic.
But here, we've reached the causeway's turning
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