Florida in January

The heat and sun are bizarre against my Northern skin,

dripping with the foreign smells of sunscreen and sweat.

The water churns frothy bubbles, substituting snow.

Bewildered children screech in the warmth of the waves.

A parade of jaded natives jiggles past,

browned wrinkles and folds packaged in faded swimsuits.

A daring white head bobs between waves,

and gulls dot the sea, as if to pin it down.

I, too, want to pin down the miracle of Florida in January, my escape:

it is the weeklong denial of an unforgiving winter.

My rebellion drips down my chin with the juice of my sandwich,

and it is delicious.