Transplant
“It looks like it took”
The skeletal muscle was used
To walk the shores of the Atlantic Ocean
Where ladies lay until they resembled the red snapper
They would dine on that evening.
Where the cacophony of screaming children and paranoid parents
Was silenced
Only by man’s journey to beyond blue skies.
(But the skeletal muscle was meant to hike the northern trails)
“The body accepted it”
The fovea was used
To see the wait times that hung over
A never-ending line
That lead
To a quickly ending ride;
To take a picture of a man
Dressed like a mouse
Standing next to a melting mob
Dressed like a happy family;
To pick an oversaturated balloon
That was also overpriced and overvalued.
(But the fovea was made to read Homer under the shade of a sugar maple)
“It has not been rejected”
The heart was used
To keep the transplant alive
As it crossed over the Mason Dixon Line
And into the land of strip malls and orange groves,
The land of lost tourists and found natives,
The land of steamy sidewalks and stores the temperature of Pluto.
(But the heart was made for autumn days and winter nights)
Little poem I wrote about living in Florida.
ad hoc 