Solar Power Recalibrates My Philosophies

Kat Flores

After all this survival,

I stop dead in my tracks

in the middle of rush hour pedestrian traffic.

Finally throwing my arms in the air,

chin tilting up to the arrogant ad:

“Sun-kissed?”

No, silly billboard.

Body systems ablaze with solar psychedelics.

Skin layered in profuse sweat.

Hair lathered, not with false “sun-kissed” detergent claims,

but with evidence that winter did not destroy us.

Sun salutations against the pavement.

Worshipping noon’s glorious rays.

High like a basking lizard.

Drunk on summertime fuel.