June 2017, there’s a sign on
the roof, for rent, ocean view.
Rat’s nest in the palms. Algae &
stingrays in the harbour. Friday,

black cat molting against my leg,
I scratch out numbers on my
Hand. Girl with a man’s voice,
behind the fence, swigging vodka

out of a pint like water. I like you,
she says. Lighting up, whips of smoke,
gather, stick like honey. She has eyes
like caramel, a body to melt into when

the Santa Ana’s are blowing, hot &
restless like me. The apt. comes with
floor to ceiling windows, costs more
than I have in the bank, but there’s

something about that girl. I am a stone
wall. She is fearless color. Never been one
to dabble in the garden. Like a siren, she
sits on my windowsill & sings me home.