Puerto Rico is still asleep
while we starfish aimlessly in the sea -
We are like lost men seeking shelter
in a place where the sweating sun
is forever at high noon,
ceiling fans turning slowly
and dewy drops on upper lips.
I am like the skinny girl in an indie movie
who lounges around in her underwear,
a cigarette dangling limper than dirty hair.
A phone rings somewhere.
I am grasping at a dream
like I am drowning and watching
the surface float away, falling
so deep into sleep that
the stars seem to sing.