The Marbella
Fast as rust,
the humid decay,
smoldering in defeat,
beneath my bare feet,
the fusty smell,
rising in the heat,
blurring the streets,
down hallways and corridors,
the mildew reeks,
the fire and sun,
heat beats the rhythm,
solar flare warm in the sea.
Crescively swollen wood halls,
stale buildings crumbling,
house to posts, wires crawl,
geckos white on tiles froze,
stairwells, browned and bronze,
red burrs clinging to the rails,
loyal comers wise to the details,
finding a new freedom,
only you can believe in,
secrets rumor the tales.
Beach tones, mopeds roam,
burrowed hideaways,
outline the local drape,
spoken faith twice a day,
chanting therapeutic,
in the jungle acoustic,
the day makes the way at island pace,
finished in silhouettes,
blues, yellows, oranges and reds.
Antique tarnished painted pink,
Roots, beliefs, colors batik unique,
vintage old paintings screaming,
from the walls to your mind teeming,
the mistress of the dinette,
laughing and smiling,
composed of few words,
simple, rehearsed, beguiling.
The spirit of the ocean,
living in our dreams,
between here and there,
amid them and me,
spread evenly,
sharing everything
in waves the brightness reflecting.
Far way home beyond dreaming skies,
in deep volcanic rock seas,
living in the future, parallel reality,
rejoining the water front scene