Sayulita - Lauren Cameron

f​You’re upset because I’m sunburned; I’m upset
because despite stringy mangos peeled back
like lilies, white-topped waves crumbly
and approachable, tajin-crusted rims we lick
like rock candy, the rustle of papel picado,
cross step to the nose, two toes off the end,
bottom turn down the line, hit the lip before the close,
wobbly knees your first time standing up,
three salsas that ooze onto beans
from squeeze bottles, the lack of city louder
than the city herself, the scrunch of your nose
as you bite into lime, chorus of buenas
on our heels as hollowed cans follow
newlyweds, swells lined up in neat rows;
coconuts green and sharp, bobbing
turtle heads, playing cards dipped
in sand, books brittle with salt--
self-loathing demands attention.




Lauren Cameron is a queer poet living in Brooklyn, NY. Her poems have previously been published in Westwind and Matchbox Magazine. She enjoys gardening, playing with her cat Basil, running to rock music, making bad art, and reading everything Maggie Nelson publishes.