Treading air over pastel cathedrals,
they rise, warm crema in caffe,
so sweet,
shot of rum on the rocks.
Let them ride the breeze,
then land
and fan, and flutter
before you run dry of breath
or blood or
hopeless kisses,
insist on a brisee-soleil
to cool the Caribbean shimmer
of heavenly heat.

Angela Allen
San Juan Puerto Rico, October 2004