Break, dislocated

Palm fronds pattern the blue
rustle and rain-rattle in the heat,
fountains splash with eternal ripple
in suspended unreality
far from  nature –
even the birds soar at a distance
removed with butterflies and lizards from this procured environment,
disconnected from the land, the stripped-bare sea,
the people, shuttered and shuttled away,
hidden from bleary-red, shaded eyes
are stripped bare, too, playing roles
handed to them on scripts scrawled upon paper money scraps
everything a show for this manufactured mall-scape,
the escape they call paradise.

As guilty as any, I breathe slow and deep,
absorb sun-heat and ocean breeze
revel in landscaped idleness,
ashamed, I am just as much to blame.


2 thoughts on “Break, dislocated

  1. You set the mood in this so well, with the harsh and quick sounds in the first stanza. I especially love “scripts scrawled upon paper money scraps” and “manufactured mall-scape.” How you counter that with the appealing slow, deep breaths and warmth of the second stanza. Really brings me along with you.

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