Uncle Bill and Aunt Cindy Go South

We were stranded in that place, which seemed
Like paradise at first, but wasn't. Without
Air conditioning (they'd fix it soon, they said,
But no), our room was like a little hell.
Those paradises aren't just hot. They're
Humid. It was hard to breathe. The beach
Was filthy, taken over by a mob of college
Kids, all drunk and playing awful music.
Any food we found was spiced so highly
That we'd pant and sweat. We moped
For hours by the pool, and hiked a couple
Times along the broiling, chicken-studded
Street to shop for trinkets in a market
Filled with pushy natives and the smell
Of something, rotting fish? We made it for
A week before we gave up, and we bought
A flight, paying dearly just to leave. I tell
You, Bill and I are done with promises
Of paradise. From now on, if we
Travel, we'll stay in the USA.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 49 times
Written on 2020-02-17 at 15:43

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