On the Levitation of Beautiful Objects

For those millennials who desire one, I offer a parable. Once upon a lifetime, in my turbulent years as a weather system, I was a typhoon named Karen. If I whirled my spiral rainbands in the north, my rotation would’ve shifted to the right. In reality, the Coriolis effect deflected my movement in the southern hemisphere.

A corrective footnote in meteorological history, for the record–

I made landfall as a tropical storm, not a hurricane
                by the Isla de la Juventud, the Isle of Youth.
                            On this archipelago, I alighted on an isle,
            kissed the gangly mangrove shores,
                upset ferries, hydrofoils, yachts.

While serenity blew a puff of air- a glaucoma test in my solo eye–I roared no to sea ports and unreeled an archive of 35mm film, no to fashion institutes, no to civil engineering, no to female pelvic exams, no to forced sterilization, no to acid vibes of the bay, absolutely no to war, a decolonial no to imperialism. A thousand megawatts powering a million offshore turbines,

I tossed a love note into my namesake storm–

Dear brazen fury of juventud, I lost strength while summoning the beauty of the unanchored, not the lost. Pure verticality and relentless power, as the world’s rudest tambourine, I dragged my inclemency over palmetto groves, fishing piers, and utility lines. Beloved denizens of the archipelago, so very anthropocentric in scope, you failed to see
                                                  I was only levitating beautiful objects.