A Perfect Match in Tahiti.
Tahiti or bust or both
There are places on the earth that are too beautiful to wax poetic about
A Pefect Match In Tahiti.
My flip-flops lie
skewed across
a nearby dune,
next to three jumbo
margarita tumblers
drained dry
they reflect the steaming
tropics shimmering glare.
My beach buzz
mellows the
endless roar
of the waves
and enhances the topless
ladies passing my
niche in the sun.
Well-oiled,
I become an
offering burnt,
prostrate I worship
my winter-free sun.
then snooze on
a green striped
cabana chair.
as gulls peck through
my pretzel bag
scattering salted
bends of bread.
The shade of
the umbrella
lies just east,
of any hope of
shadowing my
noon dreams.
I will rise later
stiff as a match
whose head
has flared
from red to
smouldering
and stagger back
to a cool shower
that only dampens
the burn
But Aloe Vera
grows outside my door,
and bleeds clear gel
to heal my indiscretions.
so damn the
consequences
on this my vacation
from all of my senses
I am buzzed to the max
and feeling no pain
in the beauty of Tahiti
where I have no plans
on leaving.
© 2010 Matthew Frederick Blowers III