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.