My Week Beats Your Year


It’s a statement made close to 40,000 feet above sea level,
dull engines firing doldrums, taking me
and a privileged few to remote homes
between Cuba and South America.

Where is it again?
Southeast of Puerto Rico.

People are still there, year round,
greens-keeping the tourist traps
and living off the dry island fruits.

Soon, they plan – inflows arrive
as if stepping off the subway –
Cabana shirts and exposed chests,
emphasized cleavage, tan lines, and boat shoes.

I forgot the boat shoes this time,
but I didn’t forget the style.

The engine rumble rumbles close;
it’s causing a rumbling within me.

I am excited, because this time I am alone.
The tropic reaches are my frontier.

And no one can stop me.

2 thoughts on “My Week Beats Your Year

  1. Nah, my week is better :-)

    This is pretty fun to read, I can picture this lifestyle through your words, and it’s kind of motivating as well. I need a couple thousand dollars, and I’ll be saying those words myself!

  2. Haha I think anyone would feel that way if they were in the same moment. I like to close my eyes and think of exotic locations like that because it displaces me from the world I live in, a sprawling urban and suburban landscape.

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