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Summer in Rose Park

The airplanes ascend, through orange streetlights and “Compramos Oro” white neon signs, backlit by turquoise dusk skies that make me think of Mexico. The telephone wires stretched across the street. A man riding his bike. Another skateboarding. The Miami Heat win the championship. And I wish I was somewhere by the beach. But I am in Rose Park in the city of salt. Cars drive by. Bumping rap or mariachi music.

In our neighborhood, people still sit out on the porch. 

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