Saturday, January 10, 2009


So who are the beautiful people
and where is the island?

I've waited long, a long time
for sand, sun and a sorting out
of ghosts

I hoped the light, the breeze through everything
would send away the voices but instead
they intensified, fed
on the fuel of sand and sun,
water everywhere,
music and dancing nakedness, women,
paid attractions and I
drink something milky
from a coconut 
and I walk past my wife, 
past the liquor huts and the dancers,
I find my quiet hotel room
and I draw longs lines across my slender wrists
in the bathtub. 

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