The summer sun invited them to skip
out with no shoes
and walk the blocks of the bare-foot road.
Time spun and they prayed that
its rhythm would continue past the horizon.
The sun led them along the road
parallel to the Caribbean and gathered hibiscus
to rest in his thin hands,
the only part of his body that moved. Village elders
said his name in tongues and the only thing
she understood was the risk of the wheels
on the broken ground.
This life-in-hands is more than she asked for.
They decided goodbyes would break them
opting for bitten lips and stretching eyes
across jungles, oceans, and states.
He begged that she would stay
and the hands with the flowers wouldn’t let her go.
The Caribbean fell flat at their feet
and they drank the colors of summer
so that orange and pink bled through their skin.
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