If ever we should meet again

it would be on the beach in Cozumel.

I’d follow the footprints in the sand

that snaked between the raked

piles of seaweed and plastic bottles

and the milky turquoise sea.

I’d pass the grand hotels,

their rows of yellow stucco balconies

lined up for the show,

the orange-tiled villas

with their barking dogs,

the abandoned fishing boats

rotting like beached whales

and at the place where

the shore is choked by tangled growth,

and the jangal begins,

I’d see you wading in the water,

a book of crosswords in you hand,

the waves lapping the bottom

of the blue batik wrap

I’d bought you in St. Kitts.

You’d flash the gracious smile

everybody loved and say,

you’ve had your glimpse,

now go resume your life.

I’d reach out to take your hand

and find you spirited away

by the lively morning breeze.

(Originally published in River Poets Journal)