all my love to miami

i could see myself living in miami.  florida, people sneer, envisioning faded plastic flamingos and gritty retirement homes.  tacky, they think, boring, humid.  i promise it's humid, it's so humid your hair and skin and clothes fill with the dampness the second you step outside.  the conditioned air pumped through your house is a lie.  but tacky?  boring?  i promise you, i promise, it's just as magic as anywhere else, maybe more so.  looking up and thinking 60 degrees is cold.  one season, maybe two, all year.  you are suspended in a forever summer with fruit growing on the sidewalks.  color springs eternal, every sidewalk bordered by a pastel rainbow of shopfronts and restaurants.  the margaritas!  the gelato!  girls holding hands, rollerblading down sidewalks, sweaty men jogging along the marina accompanied by their ipods.  the boats are right there.  the ocean laps up on the shore, against the cement walls, over the shiny bronzed people wearing bathing suits in november.

this time we went to fairchild to see the glass exhibit by chihuly.  it was gorgeous, but i kept thinking how it would be so perfect to see at night, illuminated from the inside out.

except the roxaboxen sculptures, those were perfectly laid out in the desert section of the botanical gardens, spiking up between the cacti and aloe.

 and if there's a butterfly exhibit, you can bet i'm going through it.

greg took me around on his motorcycle and the air smelled sulfury and it looked like it was about to rain the whole time, but it never did.  i got antsy thinking about my hands, about how instinct would kick in if we crashed and the soft fleshy skin of my palms would be the first thing to hit the pavement.  we didn't crash, we just listened to miami's classic rock station and the wind whipped my braid across my back, and when we went home anna carol and i walked the dogs and we ate hungry howie's while we watched whiplash because jazz musicians and miles teller and what else do you do on your last night in miami.  after everyone went to bed i slipped through the sliding glass door and sat on the balcony with my legs dangling over the edge and thought about how i wasn't ready to leave yet.

i'm still not ready to leave yet.