Florida Girl (Edit 1)

[nozaki]

Warm oozes in--oozes... on the fence 
through the wooden backbone
of your mostly concrete home;
concrete and wood,--I can't say I'm in love with how these lines are phrased, nor how they work as an opener. 
the anthem of here.
Day-old plazas--think you could do better than day-old. 
appear classic at sunset,
crumbling docks
perched at water's edges, resting sleepy and uneasy--would cut 'resting'
to be scrapped away next hurricane season
or maybe
stand their ground another year.--much stronger second half. having read over the entire poem, I think this is the least lyrical stanza. 

Unchanging as our seasons,
Florida girl, you never thought you'd be
our most fiery defense
nor unwilling hostage--interesting lines, but vague when put up against the snapshots of life. 
yet here you are,
clinging to steamy sidewalks,
radiating through the soles of your Vans
("my body wasn't made for this!").--small, but I would capitalize 'my'

Unchanging, you are, as the Florida fall:
making a season from scratch 
with spirit, with cider and cinnamon sticks,
avocado vomit from a jack-o-lantern mouth
your friend dressed up as her 'ideal self'
your ex and me in the same pumpkin T-shirt
(whoops).
Florida's fall
has little to do with Florida at all
And you pull it in close like a hug.--would cut this last line. also, some weird capitalization/punctuation going on these last few lines 

Unwavering as those few weeks
of still, wet, winter air--commas completely confuse me, what even 
biting down in spite of a sky that smiles blue,--beautiful 
happy to host this
traffic of touristing cardinals,--awkward couple of words
woodpeckers and northern pintails,
flocking to greet you like the old friends
who, too, roll in around this time.--I understand 'too' but am nonetheless flummoxed by its placement 

Unceasing as the spring and summer showers,
some torrential, blurring away 
what once seemed near--songlike, lovely 
but just for now,
rain-smacked mud puddles
splash themselves on the wet engine-heat
of cars who've learned to drive straight through this
half-blind, for a moment.
Or the cloudless kind,
sprinkles from nowhere,
God flicking Her wet hands from above;--Her? Unexpected. 
Where do these happy tears come from?

And where do you think you're going,
Florida girl?
Cupping in your hands a life
that pools up, is full, spills out again,
ever unchanging in the staleness and the newness
it brings you and then
lets seep away.--my favorite part of the poem is this first half of the last stanza. You have a touch for easy flow. 
My favorite in all this:
One of those soft Florida hands
left to drip-dry
reaches out 
for one of mine.