I hate crowds and walking behind slow people.
My stomach turns at the sight of human blood or sweat,
and I gag at
the way they breathe too heavy
or snore while they sleep,
the sucking of air to remove food between teeth
or licking their fingers after they eat.
It’s muy caliente
and I’m glistening,
propped up on this wicker couch again
trying to ignore all the noise around me
but I’m stuck on a boat
with four thousand other human beings.
I try to find a quiet corner,
but every crevice of this massive craft is covered,
with screaming toddlers in strollers
and families speaking foreign languages
trying hard to out Jones the other;
kids that constantly run by without parents
while doors are blown shut from the wind;
pompous guys who smoke cigars as they brag about
how much they’ve spent
while judging every body that walks past them;
and the little old ladies bitch about losing money in the casino,
but will be back donating to the Carnival
in less than an hour
as I am left scowling under my breath
wanting to hear silence.
The boat blows heavily in the breeze
as they both fight their way across the sea,
after the sun sets so graciously over the navy blue waters
that turn black at night,
and I wonder what time everyone leaves
or at least goes to sleep.
The elevators move slower than bills trying to pass through congress,
if they move at all,
and they’re always going down when you are trying to go up
never getting anywhere unless you take the stairs
no matter what time of day,
but my legs are exhausted from all the walking,
my feet blistered from the many stones of Montego Bay,
and my skin is sun poisoned like a plague
itching and scratching every square inch
of her French Kiss
upon my blistered flesh
in the Caribbean.
I seem to stand out even when I’m trying to hide,
my head always buried in a book.
People walk by to ask what I am writing,
and they sigh at the fact when I say it’s a diary,
So I read them some old shit
from my first paperback edition,
knowing I’m in the middle of new scripts
but still trying to teach past lessons,
and I try to vacation but the people,
they don’t go away,
always in my way,
homesick for Georgia and the life I have created.
Only a few more days forced to stay on this annoying vessel
that overcharges for everything.
Can’t wait to get to mainland
and remember what it’s like to be free.