I was lying on my back on a crowded beach in a small Mexican resort city drinking copious amounts of tequila and cervasas till the bulls came home. I was trying to write a cyberpunk poem sitting by the pool when everything began to melt toward comfortably numbing shit.
I had missed the beach, I had missed the beat. There was nothing left to say or do. Nothing grabbing me word wise here but the merciless Mersault sun like a velvet yellow glove squeezing the soft flesh trigger of my throat as I tried to grasp the reality of my ill-fated vacation.
I had a pounding headache. Had several pounding headaches built upon and sprouting from the first True Cause like alcoholic appendages. The nightmare marriachi bands were playing a 4/4 time measure up and down the dark rooms of my ganglion hotel. MY swim shorts were too tight. MY crotch was on fire from booze or for the lust of Spanish women. Globs of time went unaccounted for in a Paz-like maze of mystery. Salt and grime were invading my lower extremity like a minuscule Spanish army. Around me everything was taking its slow manana toll on my sensibilities. The beer buzz and the mostly inchoate conversations with travellers-- the beau monde tequila and coke jet setters who were spilling out early onto the white rowed chaise lounges of my regret. Pedro the cross eyed bauble vendor and waiter was an Aztec shamen in disguise. But I commended his athletic prowess at negotiating the amalgamation of bronzed body parts and chairs with a topped up tray that looked ever so much a
from my perch along the pool line until it arrived safe and sound.
About the author:
I am a poet and educator living in Canada near the Detroit border. I have been writing poetry for over 15 years but have only begun getting hits on the poetic radar about the last 5. I have been published in the United States, Canada, England and Belgium. Ive got over 50 publishing credits to my name.
Recent publications in the US include Lummox Journal as well as Butcher's Shop Press, out of New York and Change (A magazine dedicated to Richard Brautigan). I have also been published in Rattle, and mentioned in Hope International Review.
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