Disco paradise

I lived in a house near an airport
for a short part of my childhood.
I also lived near the ocean.
I don’t like flying or swimming.

I lived near a disco on the highway
and had palm trees in my yard.
I worried I’d be taken
late at night by revelers hiding in the palms.
I worried more
that my parents wouldn’t notice.
I’d rest my chin on the windowsill
watching colored lights
and sparkling drunk people
act out constellation myths.

As much as I liked the salt air,
I knew I didn’t belong
where fruit was abundant
and urban orgies were a way of life.

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