Concrete Miami is not a vacation, or a beach it is hotter, and open -- a raw nerve, a wound torn open in the swamp a glassy sea, smudged with fingerprints where a thousand thousand boats have trawled a teeming anthill with signs that say "We Speak English" where the trees plot with poison and the ants learn quickly, quickly to curse in Spanish. ----- A/N: This #poem has shamelessly copied the form of another, more famous #poem as a writing exercise. See if you can figure out which one!
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