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she is running down the staircase
que pasa, que pasa, echoes before her
i am on the front balcony
watching the butterflies wander
from one miniature rose to the next
having my third cup of coffee
cream, Kahlua, a tad of rum
as Beethoven's Fifth drifts out
escaping into the verdant
she too is enveloped in escape
her piece of resistance
the taxi waiting below 
a week ago they arrived
love abounding everywhere
i had checked them into the hotel
i am the resident poet
fill in for a drunk night manager
the brotherhood of the inebriated
they had met on acid
true love, fate, destiny, you know the routine
Leary would have been proud
the first day they were a ballet
dancing down the beach
romantic eateries watching the ocean
tumble continuously in
as pelicans and magnificent frigates
filled the sky in an aerial choreography 
then the acid ran out and tequila waltzed in
by the third day, doors began slamming
the iguanas could not bear it anymore
retreated to the din of the jungle
by weeks end the mosquitos 
pleaded to be let out
screams became crescendos thru the hotel
now he comes to the balcony
she and luggage are loaded
into the waiting taxi, the que pasa
now a raucous cacophony
of stick it up yours
slowly fading into the neotropical jungle
she is off to another piece of resistance
of that i am sure
i ask him, think she will write
he ignores me, returns to his room
where for three days no one sees him
the bottles pile up outside, he is alive
the fifth day he is gone

         Play Hermosa   91

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