Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Poem for the Day


After looking at ruins
sandwiched between tourist towns with
handpainted bricabracs and ballcaps emblazoned with the bandera de méxico,
we walk hand in hand under the Yucatan sun,
looking for a place that serves cold beer yet not that populated with
too many snaggletooths staring at your pale tourist legs,

and we talk about the stones we walked(in
reverent tones), slightly hushed, as though
ashamed to speak of the ghosts

of those so quite like our own.

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