right off — there’s already enough rain

I’m not inviting it into my poetry
salmon—this fish whose body

torques up ladders  —

has enough problems
if you’re Cuban

and wind up in the Pacific Northwest  — 

the ecstasy of your dreams is pocketed until August  — 

the only month of certain heat
you troll the Asian produce stands

for malanga, scotch bonnet peppers,

and the elusive green plantain
you wait months for the only Desi Arnaz CD in the Seattle Public Library’s holdings  — 

even though there aren’t any other holds