Las Calles are concentric,
paved in cobalt blue brick
leading to a purpose,
The reason you flew
Twelve hours.

There are no vacant corners.
All societies fill the sidewalk
with their colorful
bangels, pottery,
flowered hats that always
has the aroma of an island
hand-carved pieces of memories.

In a café,
we drink from parrot color glasses.
exotic juices,
plated goodies,
and the American ordinary.
Language fills the air,
sounding confused
and excited.

We catch a tram back
to the hotel. There is a zealous drinker
on the bus, singing something for his baby
Glossy bags are as good as gold
A keepsake for another time.

The next morning, snorkeling in the azure
Caribbean waters. Exotic fish are like smears
of paint on the coral reef
some are rocks from
the moon.

We drink rum and sway
in the island light
watch dolphins play catch,
and plan for one more day
then, home.