2 01 Pm On Saturday Afternoon In The Caribbean
Just 200 meters from the shore
I am shirtless
a flopped fish on the boat deck
gazing at cloud patterns above
the great sea yawns
through another 2'oclock day
as tourists lay at the
water edge like cuts of cane
waiting for transport
the sun moves through the hours
I close my eyes
and listen to the ocean babble
a butterfly, with a delicate hurried look
slapping the pages of its wings
lands next to me and I began to talk:
I talk of the pleasure
of the days
about the sweet cup
of the thing we call life
and how good the sun feels
warming my shoulders
who would have thought things would be so easy?
suddenly the boat lurches
and then, far off, on the shore
the plaintive scream of a child
an undecipherable refrain
