By Lance Dixon

The fourth Thursday

There’s the pitter patter of a faucet that hasn’t gotten care
We’re focused on the fixings not that particular repair

Grandma sidles up to a task she knows well
Even as the children in the living room give the older cousins hell
She puts great care into treating the turkey
Seasoning and stuffing with the precision of a doctor in surgery
The spices arranged like small battlements on a strategic map
Pinches of pepper, sprinkles of salt all spread in a snap

Uncles yell obscenities like the garnish to an oft-told story
About that one neighborhood dude who had a crush on auntie
The TV blares with Daniel Tiger, or Dora or unimportant ESPN highlights
It’s a welcome distraction before the later-evening fights

In the kitchen there’s organized chaos and construction
As pots and pans mimic skyscrapers and helpers find their function
Older cousins step up into the roles of the elders
Peeling and prepping potatoes or perfecting pies
As another auntie watches her apprentice with a master’s eyes

It’s all a delicate balance and each dish its own canvas
The college-aged kids talk about navigating campus
Alcohol flows as freely as the freeze pops that the kids sneak
In the brief moment where no one’s looking, kids open pots and take a peek

Collard greens, yams, cornbread all in various states of ready
And you pray the uncles’ arguments don’t get too heady
As everything is laid out the food emits a smell like a hug
Almost like a cartoon character the way the aroma starts to tug

Everyone, fresh from an outfit change, makes their way to the table
And the trays, plates, pots and bowls are moved by the willing and able
Before the prayer and piling on of bountiful portions, say what you’re thankful for
And, surprise, auntie just said she’s having baby number four

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A tribute to sorcery

The sun is our shared giver
But it has bestowed more
To the stretch of swamp
That is this southeast tip
Of the Sunshine State
When you exit a darkened home
Kept afloat by fans and leaking A/C
Walls adorned with memories of elders
Photos stained by life and learnings
Posters paying tribute to fallen soldiers
Who never fought in wars
But inspired us all the same
As soon as the door opens
And you’re greeted with a fresh dose
Of vitamin D
You’re struck with endless possibility

Whether it was just a trip to the flea
For nothing or to be fresher than before
A journey to jump into
The seemingly endless expanse of ocean
A day of errands 
Traversing past strip malls
Filled with abogados and pawn shops
Barbershops where the shit talk never stops
Corner stores next to collections of curling irons
Where gossip and chisme
gather in an endless game of twisted telephone

Ideally you ride around without
Leaking A/C, properly cooled off
And letting the aux talk
But before Bluetooth and curated playlists
Big Lip Bandit and Supa Cindy
Interrupted serenades from 
Stars who spit bars about wealth we couldn’t see
Love we hadn’t quite gained or lost
Unless Ma and Pop were behind the wheel
Then it was solely Hot 105
Memorizing the lineup down to a James T
Until the clouds of the quiet storm
Came in rumbling

The Magic City I know
Contains alchemy because of you and me
Not development that destroyed a flea
Or replace offices for abogados
With Pura Vidas slinging toast with avocados

Miami is a sum of misshapen parts
Held together with sweat
Caribbean and Latin American ingenuity
The heroic survivors of slavery’s horrors
Ancestry swinging from Africa
To other stretches of the continent we see
Indigenous soil and structure
Threatened by building booms and bluster

It’s a wonder that it exists at all
A living tribute to sorcery
But it’s the only home we can call
And we forever cherish it dearly

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thank-full

gratitude is an odd thing
based on your actions and yet
a random assortment of happenstance
feeling the impact of who you are
and taking in the awe of an investment
fiscal or physical

impossible to measure
how can you be articulate
about moments that change your life?
expressions of joy caught in your throat like a bear trap
and even when they escape, they feel inadequate

when you look around a sweaty dance floor
and see a collection of people
who are just as grateful to see you as you them
when a “just because” gift becomes essential
or a pal is in your neighborhood
and decides you need a break from some bad news

when you look out at nature’s beauty
in the middle of a trip planned by friends
and can only slightly tamp down your tears
when you work is published
and friends arrive to give you a needed reprieve
from forced and familiar small talk

I am grateful for every cell and atom
that played a role in my happiest moments
in the hands that comforted me on hard days
the organization of stars that allowed me
to be born at the same time and century
as the person who made me laugh harder than ever

for fast friends who become buddies for five years and then five more
for the parents who insist that they pay
even when they know you’ve gotten a raise
the brother who can still make you think in different ways
adopted brothers who never say no to one more drink

I even put together all these words
and I don’t know if I got it right
maybe my next try will be punched up
by a poet with a strong literary left hook
and even then, when I thank them
I don’t know if the word “gratitude” will be enough

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Bounty & balance

I celebrate the chaos of colors and sounds
A swirling synesthesia of bright modes of travel
And blaring anthems of what hard work affords us
Wrapping ourselves in an armor that predates us
And that we could chip and rust without care

Threats float in the distance
Totems to the modernity the masses choose
A literal gap between them made of brightest blue
With a murkier truth beneath the surface

Much like the masks we hide behind
There should be harmony and balance
But scales didn’t account for the scope of greed
Of short-sighted sycophants seeing colorful profits

Stones throws away from symmetrical spider webs
Mounds of mangroves mixed with leaves as
Orange and red as miniature suns
As sons and daughters run with their sons and daughters

All seeing a segment of sun-soaked relief
Trees and blades of grass not subject to a request for proposals
Not beholden to Big Industry of the day
Just a carved-out canvas for self reflection or chaotic celebration
For a day, week, month or minute of toasting nature’s bounty