April 12, 2010 SAYULITA

Robert's post this morning: "For today's prompt, pick a city, make that the title of your poem, and write a poem. Your poem can praise or belittle the city. Your poem could be about the city or about the people of the city. Your poem could even have seemingly nothing to do with the city. But the simple act of picking a city will set the mood (to a certain degree), so choose wisely."



Sayulita

I have forgotten
The black shiny sand stuck to my bare feet
Always came home with me
Ending up on my shower floor day after day.
Mosquitoes attacking me
When the sun went down and
In the early damp bittersweet morning.
“Your blood so sweet,” you said.
It was long ago and so I have forgotten
You,
Unsaddling the horses
After a long day;
The pungent scent of their toiling sweat,
How they swayed,
Neighed;
Your tender care to every detail
Without a notion of the time.
Cicadas screamed in the jungle
As you sang in your strident voice
A song about “Only Once.”
The yellow flame of candles
Flickering under the smudged glass of hurricane lamps.
But this, too…I have forgotten.
Dusty streets and rutted roads
Rusting buses rumbling through the town,
Never early, never late.
Old men playing dominoes in shaded doorways;
ClickClackClickClack
As their knobby fingers shuffled tiles.
Vendors in the square
With sleeping babies in blankets strung from palm to palm;
Children sucking on tied plastic bags full of flavored water,
Sticky;
Bees buzzing
Around tacos stands;
The odor of sizzling chicken, roasting pork,
Chiles, cilantro.
Ice cold Modelo. In a can.
“You wanna beer?” you would say.
This…
Before the surfers took over.
Just the brown skinned local boys
Out on the waves, bobbing, fingers fluttering
Waiting for an early morning curl;
Gone by afternoon to jobs that required white shirts,
Leaving the ocean empty with nothing but diving pelicans.
Before the realtors came and brought internet
And cash machines,
Paved roads, bridges, rich women.
Since I have forgotten,
I can accept with no regret that
Time erases memory,
Closes wounds and doors,
So that I no longer recall your
Big laugh and your little laugh,
Your childish jokes,
Your cousin’s house,
Your sister’s café,
The street in your father’s name: your name.
Our long drives over the mountain,
To and from,
From and to.
But it no longer matters,
For Sayulita has changed...
And I no longer remember.