The Purple Island

 The Purple Island 

Gallagher 1948

The smell of humidity in the air lets us know we've arrived
The palm trees guide us down the road like Earth's own natural GPS
The coral structure emerges on the left,
leaving the car to feel like it's going to explode from the anticipation
Inside the lobby I am engulfed by the thick air conditioning,
wearing it like a heavy winter coat.
The coral color theme is everywhere like I remember it to be

The scorching concrete burns under my feet as I run out to the docks
Gecko's escape from my path, avoiding my destructive steps
The noise of boats clinking and clattering fill my ears as they rock back and forth against their buoys
I emerge myself into the ocean, only to have every crevice of my body covered with icy pain
The salt has made a new home in my mouth and nose causing me to curse the new home I just made in the ocean
With every stroke I propel myself deeper,
the gradual change in temperature is welcomed by goosebumps
I explore the creatures under the sea, trying to find answers to my curiosity


My mom paints my burnt skin with shades of blue, pink, orange, and white zinc oxide,
allowing me to join the Indian Tribe of my family friends'
My blistering shoulders cause me to retire early from the once comforting heat
We take a trip down the street to Key Lime store
The pies, cookies, candles, and sauces evade my nostrils as I explore
We travel back with goodies, the scent following us like a rain cloud