The cove beckons me
to the sea
it is really further
than it appears
We jinxed this thing
there is truly no honeymoon
just a wasted woman
squeezing lemons
in a timeshare skirting the coast
the tourists arriving
in colorful speculation
a rusty bus heading downtown
to the markets
Peddlers scream
all they know
buying is an art
swimming is survival
Let’s party at the hotel
three flights up to
broken dreams, caramel flan
and tequila
Give me a key
the one buried inside
your crawling mind
let me grasp the future
or choose to bury myself
in a sea cave
drowning on a journey
to a cove of falsity and azure sea tides
avoiding the eventual
tsunami
Reblogged this on John Cowgill's Literature Site.
Wow! A lot in that. I wish I could do it so well. 🙂
Thank you Linda for your gracious compliment. I think the words will come to us all at various times. Our job is to keep writing 🙂
Lana, you see through the facade of the “get-away” and show it brilliantly. I like how the key is buried inside the mind, and the final lines, “avoiding the eventual / tsunami.” We can run but we can’t get away from ourselves; the tsunami is coming. Excellent! 🙂
Thanks so much for your kind words, Joan. You summed it up nicely. There are some people living a plastic life, and they truly can’t “get away” from the curse that defines them. Happy writing, my friend. xx
Wow! That was wonderful!
Thank you Jennie! Happy Summer! xx
You’re welcome, Lana. Best to you!
Love your word trains Lana <3
Thanks Debby!