Letter to God from Florida

Letter to God from Florida

Thank you for allowing me to see the crab scuttling to the ocean’s edge;
for creating edges and the concept of edgy; for the happy magenta hue

of the F train, and the people on the platform playing Angry Birds.
Thank you for pelicans and the electronic New York Times,

antidote to the neighbors’ newsprint flapping in our faces. Thank you for pouches;
for speedos, bikinis baring our skin to the balmy air;

for atheism, and words without the letter “e,” and for Scrabble,
especially the “z”; for orchestras and rabbits,

but next time get the brass in tune, for the moon
goddess’s dictate to kow-tow; thanks a lot for our daily chow; for alligators,

and those microscopic nits I picked for days
out of my daughter’s hair. Seriously,

thank you for the concept of infinity;
and this nitty vacation sand, shifting hot

as I dig my elbows down, raise my sacred torso,
stand to face the foam.