Originally published in the Avatar Review, Issue 21 (an online publication that is now defunct), this next installment of Behind the Poems is a love letter to my hometown.

It doesn’t matter where I go in SoFlo. Palm trees always follow.
Lush green to decaying brown starburst fronds exploding from a
trunk of taupe rings so skinny I can wrap my arms around. Like frozen
fireworks that got caught halfway up from the ground.

And then there’s the ducks. Ugly birds with black and white mottled
feathers and wrinkly red beaks like a saggy soaked old rag. Still,
their signature waddle makes me giggle, if not menacing
when coming toward me. Walking away though, it’s like the white rabbit
urgent with places to be.

It’s really the water though. Lakes, ponds, oceans, even still puddles after
a freak rain cloud passing. It’s everywhere. From micro bacterial inky black
to Crayola sea foam green, but it all reflects back the light with shimmying
waves made of thousands of liquid scales rippling under the slightest breeze
and shines with shadows of skyscrapers, their windows refracted in the wet mirror.

This is Hollywood living. It’s dirty
and it’s paradise
and it’s home.

People give Florida a lot of shit, and I’m the first to say rightfully so. I give my home state a lot of shit for all its flaws and shortcomings that I won’t get into here. But there is also so much to love about it, especially in my hometown of Hollywood.

I did a nature workshop once where we discussed how I never realized how much connection we have to nature here in Florida. So often, nature is depicted solely as wood forests out in the mountains, most likely somewhere in the Midwest. While I did grow up in a city, there is still a thriving natural ecosystem in between the concrete.

I’ve always had so much love for palm trees. I consider them the flamingos of the tree world. They’re goofy, whimsical and fun looking. To me, they look like the life of the party, and what’s more South Florida than a party?

Anyone who knows me will tell you I have no love for birds. But the ducks, like the palm trees, feel kind of silly. That’s the thing about Florida. Nothing and no one around here takes themselves too seriously. Even the wildlife seems like it’s laughing at itself half the time.

Living on the East Coast of a peninsula, I practically grew up on the beach. Water has always called to me in all its forms. Even the dirtiest puddles invite me to come jump into their shallow depths for a moment of pure, childish joy. Meanwhile the salt sea of Hollywood Beach soothes with its steady ebb and flow against the shore.

Florida has quite a lot it needs to work on, but despite that, I still love it.