Saturday, July 11, 2009

What I Remember

What I remember of my trip to paradise
was not so pleasant at all
I remember the dead guy
and the brains under the towel

I didn't see the fall

But I remember the girl

The flight was late
and customs was hours
just waiting, not even in queue

and the hotel just wasn't there
Sleeping in a U-Store-It with the rain coming down on a metal roof
Like living inside a drum

But on the first day she was there
She sat on the beach but never went in
She wasn't that type
She was delicate, but bent
and beautiful in her own way

And I asked to see her again
and she said yes
And I arrived and her friends
made it more than uncomfortable
But she smiled when we left
And she laughed at my jokes
And she seemed impressed
when I just gave away my American bags
to the fisherman that wanted to buy them

And then her brother fell

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