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Collected Poetry
(rd king dot net)poetry and digital art
American Summer
Poems written while traveling.
Destinations of Perceived Choice
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1: On Arrival Mosquitoes are feasting on the plump sweetness of my thigh meat. What is the point of leg hair? Our room trembles with the lower end of beach music. The vacation begins! 2: All-Inclusive Fat woman stands smoking, unable to placate her ample breasts— lounged, her husband ablaze in sunscreen. Only skinny man on the beach passes behind her. 3: Moment of Density An iguana and a blackbird in the greenspace beside the road. Hotel trams pass by as if nothing. The jungle presses its vast wall of density to the sidewalk's edge. 4: Moment of Longing Those things that make sound in the night—not cars or trucks (the highway's roar). Those things that sound the night long for when the world once again belongs to them. 5: Iguana Crawling into Poolside Bar She was British. The birdsong annoyed her. She said so. Her husband worked crosswords and smoked beside a lovely pool crowded by inconsiderate jungle. 6: Moment of Quiet The bartender speaks in Spanish, smiles, then English. The waiter speaks in Spanish, smiles, then English. The reason I come here (what I enjoy)... I don't understand what anyone says. 7: Destination of Choice A group of palms I wish to see each next year as life continues to dribble past— water feature sound, birdsong, beach boom-boom. Nadadores hablando español. 8: Promenade Sunday afternoon on the avenue. Families en regalia, young couples, girls with dogs, boys with balls, mixed groups strolling through the merchants, the restaurants and empty bars, tatoo parlors and smoke shops, convenience stores—the odd thing is, no one falls down. 9: Self-Portrait as an Old Man I Don't Recognize Bird of Paradise, birds of paradise—birdsong. Swaying palms. Fronds swaying. One wonders why paradise must be so warm. 10: Moment of Blue and Yellow What more was there to do other than bob in Mar Caribe watching sailboats drift by, the jetskiers, the very yellow outer buoys. 11: Self-Portrait With a Small Sense of Terror Happy hour at the bar we often favor, enjoying a cocktail no longer on the menu. We exchange details of our distant life with the bartender—similar on an extended financial scale. At a table, three beautiful women sharing drinks with two, ugly men. Big screen futból. 12: Moment of Earnestness Happy hour, three women poolside, discussing what might improve their lives. Two women, pool steps, excited—recent data clearly improves their worklife. Various insects float in the pool. I long for the orange/magenta pool toy there on a nearby balcony. 13: Self-Portrait as Unrepentant Tourists A couple lounged beside the pool, reading—she, a murder mystery. He, poetry. Pleasant sounds fall from the water feature. Slight breeze stirring the bird-of-para- dise—startling flowers. Startling words on each page. A couple lying beside the pool, reading. 14: Moment of Nothing A man and a woman lounging in the pool —the other guests having gone to dinner. Two empty cocktails sitting at pool edge. Some towels, closed umbrellas, beach boom-boom, ardent mosquitoes. 15: Sex and Wealth A couple lying by the pool —he face down, she face up. He dozing, she reading from her phone. She reveals her crotch. The rich copter overhead. 16: So Much Nice About Now Opening the eyes to a torn palapa—shards of blue. So much nice about now. Cloud bank above Cozumel below a couple parasailing. Often, now, not so nice. 17: Moment of Clarity The ferry docked. The diesel resumes. Got into a line for the stairs. Squeezed into merged. Fled the rising metal ramp to the pier. Joined the crowd. 18: Self-Portrait as Man with Chest Hair From Armpit to Armpit A quad covered with policía municipal (flashing teeth and laughing) races up the beach. A small man begs to take me fishing. A beautiful woman (beautiful suit) exits the water— the multi-blue sea her background above white sand and wavelets (white birds). 19: Moment of Feline Delight Lounging in the pool with two drunk girls—happy hour long gone. Loud talk. Pool lights. Lit palms. A family of feral cats feasting on what the girls left behind. 20: Moment of Wet Wonderment Raindrops falling on the pool—small episodes of concentric geometry —the tiny backsplash. The guests have fled to their rooms, or the bar. My wife's wet head held above the waterline. 21: Self-Portrait as Shit-Faced Dumbfuck Scratching His Large Nuts Poolside What more was there to do... than consider life's inarticulate insistence that one moment should follow another. And why that would be so. And why, that, should be so. 22: Moment of Not Anything What can you say for the living that you can't say for the dead? A smooth flight home admist much coughing. Waking this morning to a dense cold and a harsh voice. What can you say about the dead that you can't say about the living that explains anything? back | ToC | next
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