A green-eyed girl
and her squinting suitor,
a boy who resembles Julio Iglesias,
all lush hair, even teeth, and sturdy hands.
The two of them folded into a creaking Chevy
with their respective mothers, soon to be
mothersinlaw, traveling along the turnpike
sandwiched between sawgrass and slash pine, working
their way up Florida to an Alabama courthouse
where children can be married. One mother
with weeding hair camouflaged a shade of burgundy,
wears a grimace that tugs at her entire face, leather purse
clutched in her lap, while the other mother rides shotgun
next to her baby boy, lips a tangerine line as she watches
the curves in the road, the semis passing close enough to touch.
This text originally appeared in Lisette Alonso's The Album of Untaken Photos (The Lune, 2016)
Lisette Alonso is an award-winning poet, Florida native, mother of three, procrastinator, reluctant teacher, heavy sleeper, joyful eater, and uncommon dreamer. Her work has appeared in The Nashville Review, The Tishman Review, and a variety of online journals. She holds an MFA in poetry from the University of Miami.