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Paradise Men falling from the sky using parachutes of peacock plumage hues The professionals plummeting in perfect spirals The novices sheepishly prolonging their gentle, gliding drop The salmon shade adobe dwellings with their thatched, lovely roofs Shelter me in their auspices from an unforgiving star Handmade tiles of authentic design line each steep stone step A covert staircase leading nowhere, we lounge near the pool by day There I observe a couple through a sour tequila haze A scarlet clad native and her sometime American lover Their hands never leave each other’s guilty bodies, sexually charged His absence of wedding ring betrays his intended affair In the distance crushing waves claim territory on the shoreline I underestimate; in a death roll I lose all sense of direction The blushing sky with rosy smile watches over its children A lighthouse by its lonesome guards the cliffs from clumsy ship Locals sell their wares by approaching fair-skinned tourists Necklaces of beads require long hours of work Their labor goes unappreciated, sells for meager dollar Popcorn man blows his lonely, dissonant horn forever Into the deaf night
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Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 6:17 AM UTC
58. Lighthouse 1/1/11
Paradise Men falling from the sky using parachutes of peacock plumage hues The professionals plummeting in perfect spirals The novices sheepishly prolonging their gentle, gliding drop The salmon shade adobe dwellings with their thatched, lovely roofs Shelter me in their auspices from an unforgiving star Handmade tiles of authentic design line each steep stone step A covert staircase leading nowhere, we lounge near the pool by day There I observe a couple through a sour tequila haze A scarlet clad native and her sometime American lover Their hands never leave each other’s guilty bodies, sexually charged His absence of wedding ring betrays his intended affair In the distance crushing waves claim territory on the shoreline I underestimate; in a death roll I lose all sense of direction The blushing sky with rosy smile watches over its children A lighthouse by its lonesome guards the cliffs from clumsy ship Locals sell their wares by approaching fair-skinned tourists Necklaces of beads require long hours of work Their labor goes unappreciated, sells for meager dollar Popcorn man blows his lonely, dissonant horn forever Into the deaf night
Written by
ERRPoetry
American
Jan 8, 2011
Jan 8, 2011 at 6:17 AM UTC
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